Eragon Alone
by NinjaRiderWriter
Summary: Betrayed by his leaders, Eragon and Saphira run into hiding in the northern parts of the Empire to escape both the Varden and the Empire. Now Eragon is alone with only his dragon for help, or will he find new friends and followers and maybe a student to teach the ways of the Riders?
1. The Beginning

The sounds of fighting echoed through The Burning Plains. The sounds of metal striking metal, and the thunderous roars of battle calls, and the screams of the dying seeped into the small clearing where no movement or sound came from. But inside the clearing surrounded by large rocks were two humans and two dragons. Eragon was on his knees, his eyes wide, Murtagh, one he used to consider a brother-in-arms was in front of him. Now Eragon knew the truth, he and Murtagh were real brothers, they shared the same mother and father.

_Morzan!_

The name echoed through the rebel Rider's head like a mantra. Why? Why did no one tell him! Did Oromis know? Had Brom known! That he was the son of the right hand of Galbotorix, the infamous Morzan of the Forsworn. Who had betrayed the Riders and killed them all, including Brom's dragon the first Saphira, before being killed by Brom himself. Eragon shook violently _'ITS NOT TRUE!'_

Murtagh twirled Zar'roc in his hand before putting in his sheath. "Believe what you want, little brother. But remember I said the same thing in the Ancient Language. You know its true!"

Saphira growled but she couldn't do anything while she was suspended in the air from Murtagh's spell.

Murtagh crouched by his brother, "Eragon look at me…" Eragon did so with reluctance, betrayal and horror still in his eyes at he looked at his older brother.

"I won't take you to Galbatorix, not this time. You are my little brother, as your older brother I have to protect you. But only this once, he will know if this happens a second time." Murtagh said.

Eragon looked at the dark haired man in shock, he wasn't going to be taken to Galbatorix?

"There is something you should know… You will be betrayed in the end."

That shook Eragon out of his thoughts "W-What do you mean?"

Murtagh smiled sadly, "the Varden will betray you brother."

Eragon glared at the man with loathing, if he had the strength he would have hit his brother "don't sprout lies you liar!" he growled out.

Murtagh glared back, he whispered in Eragon's ear in the Ancient Language, where you couldn't lie _"I don't lie dear brother, after this battle ends the leaders of the army will be having a meeting, a meeting on your fate of what happens if you do kill the Mad King. It's nothing good I assure you, but if still don't believe me despite speaking in this language see for yourself. The meeting will be at midnight, where the men are slumbering and only the night-watch are awake. But as I leave you cannot go back, you have to hide until night. If I am wrong, then go back to the Varden, but if I'm right… And you know I am. Meet me in the marshes between Daurth and Aroughs. I will help you, but I can only do so much due to my damned oaths."_ Murtagh stepped away from the shocked teen before saddling Thorn, he gave a fake salute to the still kneeling Eragon "Good bye little brother! I'll see you in the marshes!" and with that Thorn and his Rider flew back towards the retreating and very depleted Imperial Army.

Saphira fell back to the ground as Murtagh's spell finally ended, she curled her tail around her Rider _'Little one, what should we do.'_

Eragon slowly stood up, he looked at his friend, his soul-partner with calm eyes that held nothing but determination.

"We hide. And then we go see what this meeting is about."

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Hiding was quite easy. The battle had ended with the Varden victorious. But they had quickly noticed their Rider was missing, a couple of soldiers headed towards the spot they had seen Saphira had landed. Arya was somewhere else no doubt healing the wounded, which was good as Eragon doubted he could have hid himself and Saphira from the elf.

_"Freytha,"_ Eragon muttered, he and Saphira quickly turned invisible as the soldiers appeared. A single magician was with them, using his mind to look for any sign of their minds. But Eragon was by far a better Magician, he easily hide both his and Saphira's minds from the weaker man. "I don't sense anything!" the magician yelled to his comrades.

The soldiers looked worried "do you think the Red Rider took them?" a young broad-shouldered man asked.

Another soldier shook his head "nay for we would have seen them being taken! No doubt they are somewhere else, either resting or on their way back to the Varden, we must find them!" and with that said the soldiers left the small clearing looking for any sign of the missing rider.

After that Eragon and Saphira decided to hide in a different spot, they didn't want Arya to find them.

The sun was starting to set but it would be awhile before any such meeting would begin. The two just simply sat and waited, each mulling over their thoughts and what was to happen.

Finally the full moon was high in the sky, the moonlight was streaming down, it outlined the large Varden encampment, thanks to becoming a half-elf Eragon could see the outlines of horses and the small glints of moonlight striking metal weapons and armor.

_"Be careful little one,"_ Saphira cautioned her Rider as he got ready to sneak into the camp.

'Hey its me when have things ever gone bad when i'm involved?' Eragon said via mental link with a grin, it soon disappeared as Saphira turned one large massive eye towards her Rider with a blank stare. "Just wait here," Eragon muttered as he left the area they had hidden again.

_"Freytha,"_ Eragon turned invisible again and made sure to keep his mind hidden along with his presence. With the speeds only an elf could hope to achieve Eragon sped through the patrols of guards, it was night and they couldn't see the small tracks appearing out of no where.

He easily found his way towards Nasuada's tent, with a quite incantation he placed a minor spell on the guards standing outside, it was small enough for no one but an experienced spell caster would notice but it still did the trick. The guards would only see what they had been seeing and hearing the entire night, nothing.

He edged towards the tent cloth, he heard nothing, he muttered an incantation, a small bit of nostalgia came to him, he had used this spell to eavesdrop on Brom and Jeod.

Almost immediately voices were heard, it was like he was standing right next to the speakers.

"Ah I see we are all here," a rough and gruff voice rumbled out, Eragon assumed it was a dwarf who had taken over the dwarf army until a new king or queen was chosen.

"Yes but we still need to find Eragon! That boy is the entire hope of our army, if the Mad King has him we may as well slit our throats now!" Another males voice spoke angrily.

"Hush King Orrin," Nasuada's voice spoke calmly.

"We still need to think of how to deal with him!" Orrin complained.

The dwarf snorted "I say the second the boy cuts the head off of the king we do the same to him." Eragon's heart lurched.

"We will not kill them…" Nausuda's voice spoke, Eragon smiled, Nausuda wouldn't agree to this. "… But we must deal with him, I consider banishing him from Alagaësia for eternity, not allowed to step foot on its shores for the remainder of his days. We don't need another Galbatorix."

Eragon's eyes widened, a small tear appeared before he furiously wiped it away, "While I am not happy with this, I must sadly agree. What's to say the boy won't become like his fellow rider? I respect the dragons and it's riders greatly, but most would rather live free and happy than have newly gained freedom be ripped by a rider more powerful than Galbatorix." Nasuada said.

Orrin laughed "I agree! I'm not fighting a war just to have our Rider make himself king!"

Eragon had heard enough, with a broken heart he tripped backwards from the tent, he felt like he was be drowned in sadness, he was betrayed.

All of a sudden the sadness turned into something else, anger. A great anger swelled within the young man, it threatened to consume him, he would have let it if he had not been in the middle of an now enemy camp right outside the leaders tent. He quickly ran towards where his tent still stood. As he ran like the wind he contacted Saphira, she roared in anger inside her mind at the Varden's betrayal. She waited above the camp waiting for when Eragon was truly away from the Varden.

He quickly entered his tent, he grabbed everything he saw. He grabbed his pack and filled it with everything he could stuff in it. He grabbed his scroll and books that Oromis had given him for training, these were probably the most important things in his tent. He also grabbed a book he had gotten from Oromis that was by far his favorite _Domia Abr Wyrda, _A rare book in the entire continent. It held the entire history of Alagaësia without any influence of outside parties, only few existed in the world. He knew Jeod had one, but he had been overcome with joy when Oromis had given him it. His tent was now bare, he had his armor with Saphira, his necklace that stopped those from scrying on his neck. Now he just had to leave.

As Eragon gazed at his empty tent a small bit of the anger he had felt returned. He wanted to do something, something that showed that he knew. That he wouldn't come back. That he was no longer their poster boy, their greatest weapon.

He was their enemy now.

He got out a small piece of parchment, he scribbled a message on it. As he finished he looked at it with grim pleasure.

_"I know, good luck fighting the Mad King with no Rider, outnumbered 2- 0. You should have trusted me, believed in me. Now it's too late. Have fun fighting against the Imperials alone. I'm no longer your friend, your protector, your weapon. We are now enemies. _

_ - __**Eragon Shadeslayer**__"_

He stuck the note to the bed, he left the tent and ran through the camp until he reached the Plains. Saphira's talons grabbed him from the air, with great agility Eragon climbed up Saphira and got into the saddle. The two headed towards Aroughs, the moon in front of them, a new adventure, a new life. The Varden camp slowly faded as the flew away. Neither looked back.


	2. Flight

They flew the entire day, never stopping for fear that the Varden had already sent troops and magicians after them, maybe even the Empire was after them. They just flew and flew, the only sound was the beating of Saphira's wings as the got closer and close to Aroughs.

The minds of the duo were anything but silence. They didn't know what to do, where would they go, what are they going to do? All the knew is that they needed to find Murtagh, even then they didn't know if they could trust him. They weren't very trusting at the moment.

_"I can't believe they would banish us, just in fear that I would become a tyrant just like Galbatorix!'_ Eragon said in his mind.

_"I know that little one, but you must remember that not everyone has betrayed us, that dwarf did not sound like he was from Orik's clan, and the elf mentioned how two respectful beings would be highly upset with their plans. Now whou dod you think that is?"_ Saphira rumbled out.

Eragon let a warm smile come to his face as he thought of Oromis and Glaedr, his fellow dragon and dragon rider, despite them both being crippled.

_"Do you think we should go to them, ask for their guidance?"_

_"No, they live in the capitol of the elf nation, we're not strong enough to fight and sneak by the elves, though I wish we could."_

_"So we're all alone then?"_

_"Yes."_

Eragon started to chuckle slightly, Saphira confused on what Eragon thought was so funny crossly asked the young man what he found so hilarious in their current situation.

_"Sorry its just that, that ever since i've found you we've never been alone. We had Brom, then we had Murtagh, then Arya, then the entire Varden. We've always been surrounded, never by ourselves, its funny that when we are finally alone, just a rider and dragon we're currently fleeing from an army that has betrayed us towards a man that has betrayed us and is now helping us before fleeing to some place we haven't even thought of yet."_

_"Its not my fault that trouble seems to cling to you like a moth heading towards a light."_

The mood seemed to lighten as the two joked with each other, Eragon loved riding it made him feel completely free. All that was up here was the occasional bird, no armies, no politicians, just him and Saphira flying because they are free.

While they did joke they did decide on where they would go, the would head towards the north parts of the Spine, near his home Carvahall, or what was left of it. Eragon remembered with a jolt _"Roran!" _He yelled in his mind making Saphira's head jerk at the unexpected shout, _"we left Roran back at the Varden! Why didn't I think of that earlier! Gah i'm such a fool!"_

Saphira's eye widened when she remembered his cousin _"Eragon don't worry the Varden will not harm him."_

Eragon scowled _"How can you be so sure, we did just leave the Varden saying that we are now enemies, what if they hurt him and the villagers just to spite me?"_

_"Because little one, if they do anything of that sort then they'd know that if they killed your cousin or anyone from Carvahall they would lose any chance of remaking old bonds and gain a powerful enemy one they do not need, us. Tell me what would you do if they killed Roran and your friends what would you do?"_

_"I'd. I"d hate them, i'd do everything I could to avenge them. I'd go to any length to gain vengeance on the ones who killed my remaining family. Roran is a brother, if I lost him I'd never forgive myself."_ Eragon said firmly.

Saphira nodded her head, _"They know that to do so would earn your wrath, they are already fighting the Mad King and Murtagh, they don't need to piss of another Rider and dragon."_

Eragon sighed in relief _"So they'll be safe."_

They soon arrived towards a large area of marsh, Eragon sent his conscious towards the marsh, immediately he felt the small bright light of the animals and plants living there, and there in the middle who's life energy could be compared to a bonfire surrounded by darkness was Murtagh and Thorn.

Saphira slowly landed and there was Murtagh leaning against Thorn, he smiled as Eragon came up to them "so I guess I was right."

Eragon didn't share his amusement, "I'm surprised Galbatorix doesn't know of this meeting."

Murtagh shrugged "I haven't talked to the king since before the battle, he probably thinks I'm helping with the wounded."

Eragon sighed, Saphira and Thorn left to talk among themselves, it was just the two of them.

"I'm sorry brother," Murtagh said.

Eragon just shrugged "don't be, I was a fool to trust them, but I don't know what to do now. I won't join the king, i'll just find my own way of getting the Oath Breaker."

Murtagh smiled grimly "You will need to be much stronger than you are now if you hope to defeat him… His power… Its incredible."

"Thank you for your words of encouragement," Eragon said sarcastically, "what am I going to do?"

"You need to hide, grow stronger, find people to help you."

Eragon nodded "that is what I plan to do, if we need to contact each other meet me near Therinsford,it'll be close yet far enough of where will hide."

"Very well, I'm guessing you will need a sword seeing as I have Zar'roc, don't give me that look it's mine by right! I'll get one from Galbatorix's treasury, he has so many."

Thorn and Saphira returned and stood by their respective riders, neither party spoke, not sure of what to say.

"I guess we shall go," Eragon muttered as he turned around.

Murtagh spoke in the Ancient Language _"I swear to never speak of this meeting to Galbatorix nor will I betray your trust if I can help it."_

Eragon was touched that Muratgh would make such an oath to him, he and Murtagh both got on their respective dragons, Murtagh gave a shot wave.

"Murtagh! Thank you… brother." Eragon could see Murtaghs face light up when Eragon fully accepted him as blood.

The two brothers rose off the ground as their dragons gained altitude, both heading different ways. But they knew their paths would cross again.

Dragon Riders always seemed to find trouble.


	3. The Dream

"Brazûl!" Eragon cursed as he went through his bag, they were currently a few miles near the city of Kuasta, near the ocean. They had been flying during the night and sleeping during the day so no one could see them, instead of going through the heart of the Empire they had stuck near the Spine and flew though its trees and mountains, but after a week of traveling they were in dire need of supplies.

_"What is it little one?" _

"We have no more food, nor any supplies I'll have to go to the city to get more," Eragon grumbled.

_"Is that wise? No doubt there are wanted signs of you posted through out the Empire."_

_"Don't worry I will change my appearance,"_ Eragon muttered a complex spell and his dark brown hair started to get lighter and lighter until it was a pale blonde, his dark brown eyes slowly turning into a bright blue. His ears that were now pointed due to the changes the dragons had done to him during the Blood-Oath festival slowly sunk until his ears were as round as they had been before he had become a rider, his face which had turned angular because of the dragons slowly morphed until it looked more humanish, his pale elf like skin turned to a much tanner color, he probably would pass as a farmer.

Eragon bid farewell to Saphira before shouldering his pack and started to head towards Kuasta. Jeod had once told him that Kuasta was an odd place, full of odd customs and superstitions, it was also where Brom, who he had seen as a father had been born and where his dragon had hatched for him. Oromis had once told him how Brom would always knock on a doorframe three times before either entering or leaving but had stopped after the other riders had made fun of him. Kuasta was also a large city, even bigger then Teirm and as large as Gilead.

Two guards where in front of the main gates, both had spears in their hands and swords at their belts.

"Halt state your business for coming to Kuasta!" One of the guards thundered out.

Eragon took a small breath before putting his voice in a heavy southern accent "me name is Saxon son o' Oron, and me business for comin' is to buy some supplies for me and me family as we heard north to avoid the Varden."

"Very well, but remember we have eyes and ears everywhere, if you so much as breath wrong we'll know. And do not worry of the Varden for the King shall deal with those rebels as a bear does a mouse."

Eragon nodded energetically "I agree, the king will protect us!" he said though he felt a little sick appraising Galbatorix.

Eragon entered the city, like he had been told the place was huge. The outer houses near the walls were small wooden huts with thatched roofs, then the buildings slowly got higher and of better build the farther they went. As he walked past towards the market he noticed that every house had a purple marking on the left pillar. He easily found the market place, with his hands in his pockets fiddling with the crowns he had received from the Varden and Murtagh he bought enough supplies to last him until he reached the northern parts of the Spine.

As he was walking through the various stalls to see if there was anything that caught his eye he noticed a small book stall deciding to see what there was he walked up to the stall. He scanned the various titles and quickly swung his head back when he saw two books written in the Ancient Language. As he reached for the two books he quickly opened one and saw that it was various stories or myths that have been passed down generation through generation, some even dating back to the time before the Dragon Riders, there were even some Elven poems. He opened the other book and saw that it was various words in the Ancient Language, there were no human words. They were mostly the names of the various animals and plants located throughout all of Alagaësia, along with very detailed paintings that only a elf could hope to draw along with information about the certain animal or plant.

_'What great luck! Any one, from elves to magicians would die to have such history and information on Alagaësia, my misfortune is slowly leaving,' _Eragon thought happily.

The owner of thestallcame up to Eragon,when he saw the books in his hand he raised an eyebrow "I don't know why'd you want them books, I don't even know what their about, the author used some crazy language."

Eragon pretended to look at the books with slight interest "perhaps but who knows what they speak of, how much are these?"

"Eh you want to buy those? Well I'd be a fool not to sell you those, I was thinking of throwing them out, seeing as no one would want to read them."

_'Oh you'd be surprised,'_ Eragon thought.

Eragon managed to buy the books very cheap seeing as how the seller wanted them gone, as he was walking back towards the main gates he saw an herbalist shop, thinking of Angela he walked inside. Immediately the smell of dirt and plants entered his nose, the air was musty. The herbalist was mixing something with a pestle and mortar, when he saw the Rider come in he stopped his task and with a broad smile he said "Welcome! Is there anything you are looking for?"

Eragon smiled politely "I'm just browsing," he looked around at the various plants until one caught his eyes, it was pure white with various dark orange streaks running through it, several small black dots were scattered near the center.

The herbalist saw what he was looking at, "ah the Brisinger Mithrim, also known as the fire rose, you have a good eye my friend, it can live for quite a long time and can be planted anywhere, even a cave."

Eragon decided to buy it, he didn't know if the flower would survive the journey but he thought it was a beautiful flower and he knew how rare those flowers were, maybe he could make more from that one flower for wherever he was going.

"Thank you my friend, I hope your journey will be a safe one," the herbalist said as Eragon left the shop with the flower.

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It had been several days since going to Kuasta, Saphira had been flying none stop, she thought the journey into the city had taken to long and had insisted to fly for the entire next days despite Eragon's instance for her to not tire herself.

"Saphira!" Eragon yelled in alarm as the tips of the large pine trees were destroyed as Saphira flew through them, with a jerk of the head in surprise Saphira flapped her large wings and they gained altitude.

"Saphira… You need to sleep, we're safe no one knows where we are," Eragon said worriedly.

_"Very well, but only for the night we need to reach the North soon, I don't want to be in the heart of the empire."_

Saphira slowly landed in a small clearing, they found a cave large enough for both him and Saphira, Eragon curled up by Saphira's flank as the fire in her belly kept him warm, her wings were folded over him protectively _"Good night little one,"_ Saphira said sleeply.

"Night Saphira," Eragon muttered sleepily, his eyes slowly closed, within seconds he was asleep.

(Eragon's dream)

Eragon dreamt of a clear sky, two large dragons flew over head, the Anora river rushed underneath them, Eragon noticed that something seemed to be held in the female dragon's claws. The two dragons landed near a small oak sapling.

The female dragon was a brilliant blue, much more darker than Saphira, whilst the male was a deep forest green.

_"Ankara are you sure of this?"_ The green dragon rumbled out.

The blue dragon whacked her tail lightly at the green dragons head _"of course I'm sure Cuzov, do you think I would willingly part with my yet-to-be hatchling?"_ Ankara loosened her hold on something in her claws, and to Eragons disbelief, there nestled protectively in Ankara's claws was a white dragon egg.

Cuzov rubbed his head against Anakara's lovingly _"I know but there is a chance we will kill the Oath Breaker, must we hide our hatchling? What if it hatches and we're not there?" _He demanded.

_"Remember Cuzov, the Riders put a spell on our egg so that it will hatch for its Rider, it won't hatch."_ Ankara reminded the giant dragon. She then started to rip the ground underneath the oak sapling with her giant claws, a large hole was quickly made, she then tenderly put the egg in the hole before covering it in dirt, no one would know that a dragon egg was there.

The two dragons sadly left the clearing where their child remained under the dirt.

The scene changed in Eragon's dream. A great battle was happening,Dragons and Dragon Riders vs. the Forsworn. He saw Ankara covered in blood chasing after a purple dragon but quickly veered to the right as a large red dragon started to chase her. His heart seemed to turn cold when he saw who was on the dragon, Morzan, his father.

He saw with a broken heart as Morzan's dragon caught Ankara and quickly killed the blue dragon, a great scream of grief and anger erupted from the other side of the battle field, a great green flash streaked across the field before ramming into the red dragon.

Cuzov fought with everything he had, he was much bigger than the red dragon, he left a large deep gash across the red dragons flank making it roar in pain before fleeing, Cuzov went after him. Before he could reach the dragon, the purple and a silver dragon appeared on both his sides, he quickly folded his wings and headed to the ground, the two dragons quick on his tail.

Despite his best efforts, Cuzov was slowly losing energy, he left great wounds that would scar the Forsworn dragons for the end of time but soon he too met the same fate as his mate.

The scene changed. It was back in the clearing, the grass had grown over the spot where the egg was, the sapling slightly larger. And then time seemed to speed up. He saw the sapling growing bigger and bigger, more plants growing, and finally a house appeared, then more, and more. Until an entire village was where the egg was buried, Eragon realized with a jolt that he recognized that town, it was Ursür a village so small it wasn't even on the maps.

As he thought of this he remembered when he had dreamed of Arya in her cell which turned out to be true and here was Ursür… Which meant if this dream was real. Eragon's eyes widened… There was another dragon egg. One that Galbatorix knew nothing about, no one knew about it or where it was…. Except him.

He reached his hands out towards the egg as though he could grab it through the dream, a loud growl echoed through his ears jolting him awake. He jumped up with a hand on his dagger, ready for an attack. He saw a large bear running out of the cave whimpering.

_"Hump, stupid bear,"_ Saphira grumbled.

Eragon wasn't paying any attention to Saphira, he was thinking about his dream… Could it be like when he had scryed Arya but instead of seeing the present he instead saw the past? Or was it a trick by Galbatorix to capture him and enslave him to be his weapon? Eragon knew that even if it was a trick he had to go, if there _was_ such a small possibility of another dragon egg it would help them so much. They wouldn't be the last of their kind, they'd be another dragon. Another free dragon, one of the last in the land.

_"Saphira I need to tell you something,"_ and Eragon showed Saphira the vision.

Saphira was silent, her eyes were wide and hopeful but she knew not to get her hopes up, _"Little One do you think your vision is real? What if its a trap by the Mad King?"_

_"It has to be real Saphira, I doubt the king knows of Ursur seeing as its not on the map, he would have chosen a different place I probably would have recognized not some small town few know of… Saphira if its real then another of your kind lives! This could change everything! There will be three free dragons! Glaedr and Oromis can't fight due to being crippled but they still have their knowledge, if there were to be another dragon, especially if its male then your race can be saved!"_ Eragon's tone turned softer _"if its a male he may be the mate you are looking for Saphira."_

Saphira looked at her rider with slightly sad eyes, she wanted a mate, she was tired of being alone. The only free male dragon left was Glaedr and he made it quite obvious that it would not work out between the two, and she'd rather die than be Shurikan's mate, Thorn was an option but he and Murtagh were still enslaved to the king, and she'd never let the Egg Breaker get his filthy hands on any of her eggs if she laid them.

Eragon wrapped his arms around Saphira's head, he idly noted that she had gotten bigger since the Burning Plains "It'll work out Saphira, just trust me on this. What do we have to lose?"

_"Fine, we'll look for the egg. Its near Therinsford so its on our way, come on Little One we should head out,"_ Eragon smiled brightly before jumping onto Saphira's back, she leaped out of the cave and with a couple mighty strokes she headed north again.


	4. Ursür

Eragon was sitting against Saphira's leg as he curiously looked down at the small village below him, they were on a large hill hidden in the woods so they couldn't see Saphira. The village he was currently looking at was Ursür, the village wasn't much. It was around the size of Carvahall if slightly smaller, he took in everything. The inn, the butcher, the stables, the people, nothing was missed. And there near what he knew was a blacksmiths shop, was a large Oak tree that looked over one hundred years old and possibly had a dragon egg buried within its roots.

"I'll be back later Saphira," Eragon said.

Saphira nodded her head _"very well, but if this is a trick I'll never let you go in a town, no matter how small alone! I'll never let you off my back and if you do I'll just carry you in my claws."_

_"I love you too."_

Eragon muttered the same spell he had used before to change his appearance, but he instead decided to keep his dark brown hair but changed his brown eyes changed to a dark green, he didn't have to change his appearance since he had decided to forgo his elfish looks, he looked like he was before turned into a half-elf. He looked completely human though his ears were slightly pointed but not enough to raise suspicion. He did change some features though, he made his nose slightly larger and changed his face structure so it looked less lean.

Eragon then grabbed a simple brown cloak and grabbed his backpack before grabbing a staff he had made earlier. It was a great chestnut color, with barely any dents or nicks. He had crafted it by singing to a tree like the elves did, while he was no master he did make the staff. He also enchanted the staff so that it would not break unless a great force hit it. He also drew words of the ancient language to help with the wards, though he made sure that they were hard to see.

Eragon shouldered his pack before heading down the hill to Ursür.

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Ronan Avorson sighed slightly as he idly gazed at the main road of the village. He leaned on the porch railing bored out of his mind. Ronan was fifteen years old, he was not yet an adult but he wasn't a child either. Ronan was a large boy, not fat but muscular. His father was the blacksmith after all and his father had taught his craft to him and his older brother Albrich who was 19. He was tall for his age, around the height of 5'9 but was still growing, he was muscular and was broad. He had tanned skin from being in the sun and light brown hair with hazel eyes. Ronan was also an adventurous boy, he was never one to sit around and do nothing. He was also a hunter, he had even ventured into the mysterious Spine, something that no one else did. He never went far but he still managed to bring back game to the table.

Ronan narrowed his eyes when he saw a figure walking towards his village. He couldn't tell what the figure looked like, only that he was a man, the cloak hid everything else.

"Father, a man's coming down the road!" Ronan yelled towards where his father was remolding a horseshoe while his older brother was stoking the fire.

Avor set down his hammer and headed towards Ronan with Albrich trailing behind him. The two men and one boy walked towards the stranger who stopped when they approached, "what be your name stranger?" Avor asked the stranger.

The man took off his hood to show a man around nineteen, he had dark brown hair and green eyes. While he was not as broad as Ronan and his family and was more on the leaner side Ronan could still see that this guy was strong.

"My name is Rulf son of Uric, and just a simple traveler and storyteller as he tries to find a place in this world," the now known Rulf said with a smile.

Avor could hear a bit of roughness in his voice, he could tell that the young man was probably born in the Northern parts of the Empire.

Avot stuck out his hands and Rulf shook the mans hand, "Name's Avor Gerocson, and these are me boys Albrich an' Ronan."

Ronan stuck out his hand like his father had done "hi," the boy said cheerfully.

Albrich merely nodded his head in greeting, he was more of the silent type.

Rulf nodded back " do you know where the inn is? I've traveled far and I'm weary." Avon told him the location of the inn; Rulf nodded his thanks. "Ill be telling stories there tonight if you want to come" and headed of toward the inn. "Alright back to work boys no time to dawdle" Avon said. Albrich and Avon returned to the forge but Ronan stayed watching the man disappear behind the building… for some reason he felt like there was something different about him… something powerful. Ronan shook off the feeling and headed for the forge.

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Eragon leaned back in his chair as he finished eating his meal, he wore his hood but you could still see the warm smile on his face as he looked around at the inn, men were drinking beer while their wives were trying to convince them that they have had enough ale for the night, young boys and girls were playing in the corner, it reminded him of all the times spent in Morn's tavern. Many people were here tonight because word had spread that a story teller had arrived. They were simple country folk, just farmers or crafters living in a small town not even on the maps, it was rare for entertainment to come.

Eragon took off his hood as he set aside his food, immediately the tavern quieted as they waited for the story teller to tell his tales. Eragon had pondered on what tale to tell while he was eating and decided to say one of his favorites.

He then started to speak, and everyone listened "this is the Tale of Herensuge. _A long time ago before your father's fathers were born and even before their father's grandfathers, the dragons roamed Alagaësia. There were so many of them, all different colors and sizes, from the size of small horses to a small hill, and they were noble creatures, capable of speaking as easily as you do. Then the dragons were wild, few were the Riders back in those days and their order had yet to prosper. The dragons were feared by all but were still revered for their beauty and strength. And there was one dragon that was larger and stronger than them all, Herensuge. A great dragon whose scales were as dark as a moonless night, his eyes were piercing yellow, and his teeth were larger than a grown mans arm, his claws could easily slice an ox in half. He was feared by all, whether it be dwarf or elf, human or dragon, all feared him due to his massive size. Despite being known as the most fearsome creature in the entire land Herensuge was not happy, he could not find a mate for whenever he came near any creature they would flee in fear of him, he was thought not as a dragon but as a demon."_

The crowd listened intently at this new tale, Eragon idly noticed Ronan standing near the back of the crowd with a look of amazement as he heard of the gigantic dragon.

_"Herensuge was alone, he lived on the highest mountain in the northern part of Alagaësia, but one day while Herensuge was dozing in the warm sunlight he sensed a dragon nearby. He quickly hid in his cave, he din't want to see another creature run away from him in fear, as he gazed into the sky trying to find the dragon he found her. She was a large silver dragon, she flew with such grace and skill, her scales glittered like the brightest of silver, and her eyes were of the most purest blue. Herensuge fell instantly in love with the she-dragon. He did not try to approach her as he was afraid that she would be afraid of him, but the she-dragon noticed him. He tried his best to hide in his cave as the she-dragon landed on his mountain but she easily found him. He fearfully left his cave and the she-dragon realized that he was Herensuge, an evil dragon that her mother had told her of when she was a hatchling. But she didn't see any evil in Herensuge's eyes, all she saw was loneliness and sadness and felt her heart break as she realized how lonely Herensuge must be. She then told him that her name was Sheeva and asked him his name as she didn't want to be rude. Herensuge was so confused on why she didn't flee when she realized he was Herensuge. Sheeva was an energetic dragon and immediately suggested they fly and maybe play a game."_

Eragon noticed Ronan's smile when he realized Herensuge had found someone who didn't fear him.

_"Herensuge didn't know what to do, but he accepted and for the first time in his life he found himself a companion, that day was probably one of the happiest days of his life, he had found a friend. But sadly night was beginning to set and Sheeva needed to return to her clan home, Herensuge was heartbroken, thinking he'd never see the nice dragon again. But Sheeva promised to return the next day, and she did. Herensuge was eagerly awaiting her, he didn't even sleep during the night because he was so excited. The two spent the whole day together, and soon Sheeva was visiting Herensuge's mountain everyday, months passed and the two dragons fell in love. Herensuge had let out a great roar of joy when he found out Shheva shared his feelings. They became mates and were happy."_

Eragon's tone turned grim and the villagers knew something bad was going to happen.

_"Sadly for the lovers there would be no happy ending, one night Sheeva and Herensuge had been flying for the whole day and when they returned to the mountain it was already midnight, but that night was a blind night, a night were the moon disappeared once a year and left the entire land covered in darkness. Sheeva couldn't fly home to her clan, who still did not know of her and Herensuge. She stayed with Herensuge and the two mates slept peacefully, with Herensuge's head resting near Sheeva's and his giant tail wrapping around his mate lovingly. But by the next day the worst thing happened. Because Sheeva did not return home to her clan they did not know what had happened to her. Her father and leader of the clan Rasnok, immediately got his five best warriors and his best tracker before following Sheeva's scent. He discovered with horror that his daughters scent led to the mountain of the demon dragon Herensuge. He immediately decided that Herensuge had kidnapped his daughter and with a shriek of rage flew towards the mountain followed by his warriors. Herensuge and Sheeva were startled awake when they heard the shriek, as they quickly got out of the cave a large brown blur slammed into Herensuge, it was Rasnok. Sheeva immediately tried to reason with her father but he was to far in a frenzy. Herensuge managed to throw Rasnok off of him with his superior strength and immediately attacked one of the warriors who had lunged at him. Herensuge had managed to kill the warrior but didn't notice Rasnok leap at him, claws out ready to slit the black dragon's throat. Before such a thing could happen a silver blur appeared in front of Rasnok and Herensuge. The mountain grew silent where only the wind made a sound, before __**drip… drip… drip**__. Rasnok looked at the crimson blood on his claws with horror, it was not Herensuge's throat he had slit, but Sheeva's. When Herensuge saw his mate bleeding through the neck he lost it. He killed Rasnok and the other dragons with great fury, he then quickly ran to Sheeva and his world seemed to stop when he saw she couldn't be saved. As he openly wept at the lose of his only friend and his mate he saw Sheeva's eyes open slightly "Herensuge…" she croaked out "don't be so sad, we'll see each other again. Just remember… That…. I.. Will… Always… Love…. You," her eyes closed as she said her last words. A great scream of despair echoed through the mountains, the valley, the plains, the coasts. Everyone heard the scream of some tortured soul, they shuddered at the pain in the scream. Herensuge fled the mountain that had been his home for countless decades, not able to live their without seeing he ghosts of his past."_

The tavern was dead quiet as they heard how the tale ended, of how a tortured soul had found a reason to live and love, and then to have it taken from him.

_"Some say that Utgard is Herensuge's mountain and that even now Herensuge still comes to the mountain every year to mourn his lover. If you hear a wailing coming from that peak then it is Herensuge as he mourns the loss of his lover, the only creature who had loved him and not seen him as a demon."_

The tale ended and the people clapped at the tale though some had to wipe a stray tear from their cheeks. They then gave Eragon or Rulf as they knew him coins for his tale before heading home.

As Eragon counted his money he noticed someone else come up to his table. He saw that it was Ronan smiling shyly at the stranger. "I really liked the story," he said "does he really go to Utgard every year?" he asked curiously.

Eragon smiled at the boy, _'He reminds me of myself whenever Brom told a story and how I would always have to ask more,'_ he thought wistfully, "perhaps my friend, but to really know you would have to go to Utgard, eh?" he said.

Ronan nodded and saw his father waving his hand for Ronan to follow him "bye Rulf!" he said as he hurried towards his father.

_"He reminds me of you,"_ Saphira's voice said within his mind.

_"I know, he seems like a good boy."_

Eragon got up from his table and after saying good night to the inn keepers he headed up to the room he had rented. It was bare and simple, with only a bed, nightstand, and an empty hearth, a window showed the country side. Eragon set his things down, he sat down on the bed and closed his eyes as he meditated, he placed his hand on the belt of Beloth the Wise and channeled any extra energy into the flawless gems, he had of course hidden the belt with a spell, a simple traveler wearing a belt made of rare and flawless gems was no doubt to cause suspicion. For the next couple of hours Eragon would channel his energy into the belt, he had been doing this since he left the Varden. Not only to be able to use it in battle but Eragon had an idea that if he did do would take up any of his stored energy and even then it wouldn't be complete. As he thought of this Eragon thought of his plan, it was risky but if he did it right then he would be able to stay safe, the only problem was that it was probably close to impossible to do, he hadn't even told Saphira of his plans, he only thought of it whenever she was out of his minds reach and always kept it in the corner of his mind.

The moonlight was shining through his window, no one would be up, they would be asleep in their beds with no thoughts of fleeing from the entire Varden and Empire and that there may well be the only dragon egg that has not been found by Galbatorix right underneath them. He jumped out of the window and landed on the ground without a sound, he stealthily ran towards the blacksmiths house on the outskirt of the town, and there in the backyard was a gigantic oak tree. Eragon crouched at the base of the tree as he started at the spot where the egg was supposedly buried, _"deloi moi,"_ with the power of magic Eragon watched as the earth faded and melted as a hole appeared that got deeper and deeper, he stopped the spell when he saw something in the hole. He bended over the hole and his heart stopped. Because there in the hole, shining in the moonlight was the white dragon egg.

_Ancient Language_

_Deloi Moi – Earth, change _


	5. A Rider's Sword

With shaky fingers Eragon lifted the dragon egg before holding it close to his chest in a crushing hug as though he was afraid it would disappear if he did not. Inside his head Saphira was roaring in joy _"I can't believe it! Another of my kind lives!"_ Saphira cried with joy.

Eragon quickly filled the hole before sprinting out of the village with the speed of an elf, he ran gracefully through the woods until he reached a large cave where Saphira had been hiding it. The second he went into the cave Saphira's head nuzzled Eragon's arms and he showed her the egg. She let out a roar of happiness that made all the birds near them flee, Eragon smiled at Saphira, he carefully placed the egg on the floor and Saphira's claws instantly grabbed the egg and placed it near her side protectively. Eragon sat down and leaned against Saphira's side as he gazed at the egg. Unable to believe it was real.

"This changes everything you know." Eragon murmured.

Saphira growled in approval, _"indeed, another free dragon. Safe with us, if he hatches so much could change."_

"How do you know the egg contains a male?" Eragon asked his dragon.

"_Lets just say instinct."_

"Now we just have to find his rider."

"_True,"_ Saphira looked at the egg downcast, _"what if he won't hatch soon? Its not like we can go down the street carrying a dragon egg and let people touch it, the King would be here faster than a Shrrg downs a hare."_

Eragon merely smiled as he cradled the egg in his arms, Saphira's tail wrapped around him protectively, "It won't matter, as long as we have each other we can do anything. We can conquer anything."

"_As long as we're together," _Saphira finished.

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Eragon blearily opened his eyes, the dull light of the sunrise entering his eyes, despite it only dawn his elf-like senses made it look like it was midday, Saphira was still asleep and the egg was still cradled in his arms, Eragon smiled. He got up and headed out of the cave, it would do no good if the villagers saw him emerged from the forest when they had seen him go to his room the night before.

Few people were up and Eragon easily snuck into his room, he washed his face though he did not shave, he had a five o'clock shadow, he could have used magic to get rid of it but he decided to save his energy.

Putting on his cloak Eragon left his room and headed downstairs, there he ate his breakfast before leaving the inn to find something to occupy himself with. The village was small so he decided to visit the blacksmith's shop.

It was a small building, made of rough-cut stone and thatched roof, besides it was the forge.

Ronan was hammering away at a bent sickle that had seen better days. He did not notice Eragon, or Rulf as he knew him enter the forge. He picked up the cherry-red metal with metal tongs before placing it in the stone trough filled with water, when the hot metal hit the water it immediately steamed.

"Hello," Ronan jumped in surprise and dropped the tongs and sickle where they fell in the trough with a splash, he turned around to see Rulf.

"Sorry," Rulf apologized, "I didn't mean to startle you."

"It's fine," Ronan said, "just don't sneak up on me like that."

Rulf chuckled while Ronan retrieved his tongs and sickle, "a good piece that," Rulf complimented as he inspected the sickle. While he was nowhere compared to Rhunön the greatest blacksmith in Alagaësia he was still a good smith, especially at his age.

Ronan grinned at the compliment, "thanks, are you a smith as well?" he asked curiously.

"I've learned from a great master blacksmith, though I doubt I will ever surpass her," it was true. During his time with the elves he had asked Rhunön if he could watch her work, she grumbled about it but didn't say anything. He watched her make masterpiece after masterpiece, it was only when Rhunön crabbily asked what he wanted did he ask. He wanted to learn the ways of the smith.

She was surprised at that, she didn't think that a Dragon Rider would want to be a smith, Eragon explained he had no need to become a master as her where it would take countless decades, he merely asked for advice and some tips. Rhunön had surprisingly agreed, saying that it would do some good if the Dragon Riders were ever established again that their leader could tell the difference between a hammer and a plow. Eragon had taken no offense to that and had eagerly set himself to work. He learned the basics of the art, he learned the best way to heat the metal but still make it durable, he learned how to bend and shape metal, both with magic and tools. When he left the home of the Elves to the Burning Plains his training was put on hold, he doubted he would ever return and see the cranky old elf. While she had always scowl and pointed out flaws and always lectured him, she was still a good teacher. He knew he could not hope to best her in her craft, he doubted anyone could. But he know knew enough of the craft to be considered a master by human terms, all he needed was experience.

Ronan's father had entered the forge when he spoke, "hmm well we could do well with another smith around, 'course I'll start you out with small things, can' have yeh be lying bout your skill, we can't afford mistakes, but if you prove your good then you're welcome to work here until you leave."

Eragon nodded his head, "I'd be happy to help," he shook hands with Avor.

For the next couple of days Eragon found himself in the forge, Avor was impressed by Eragon's skill, he could tell that Rulf was telling the truth about his skill, probably underestimated himself. Ronan enjoyed having Rulf in the forge, it was usually only himself and his brother and father. His brother rarely ever talked and his father was usually too busy, so he liked having a fresh face around the forge. Rulf was like him in a sense, both were good-natured people with kind hearts and seemed to always find trouble. The days spent in the forge, instead of just tonelessly hammering away in silence, Ronan heard of more tales that Rulf knew. He would always ask for certain ones. The Dragon Riders.

Rulf knew many tales of the Dragon Riders, one time Ronan had asked Rulf where he knew them. Rulf had set down his hammer as he gazed at the smoldering embers of the fire, "I learned most of them from a storyteller from my own village. He taught me so much and made me into the person I am today. He was like a father to me."

Ronan hadn't asked again, he knew not to pry. But he was a naturally curious person and had asked Rulf of the places he had seen.

Rulf had apparently been everywhere, from the north of the Empire to the south. He had even been to the desert, when Ronan had asked what the desert was like Rulf had laughed and said "hot and there never seems to be any water."

Eragon had spent several weeks in Ursür. He had grown to like it here. But he had to leave soon to meet Murtagh. So one day Eragon had announced he had to visit a friend in _Therinsford_, but he would come back.

Eragon had decided, much to Saphira's displeasure, to leave the egg in the cave. When she demanded to know why he explained that Thorn and Murtagh could sense the egg and would no doubt be forced by Galbatorix's spells to capture the egg. Saphira had reluctantly agreed and the two had placed their most powerful wards and spells on the cave and the egg so no one could find it.

The two flew high above the clouds until they saw a small village below them, Eragon stretched out his mind looking for Murtagh.

A strand of though brushed against his. He instantly recognized it as Murtagh's. _"Come Eragon,"_ Murtagh's voices spoke in his head before an image of where he was. It was a large clearing in the Spine. They found the place easy, it wasn't that hard to find Thorn's distinctive red hide in the greenery. As they landed Thorn turned his head toward them, Murtagh was leaning against him. A couple of bags were at his feet. Murtagh broke into a grin, "Eragon!" he yelled as he ran towards Eragon who had jumped off of Saphira and gave him a hug, Eragon returned the hug and smiled at his older brother as they broke apart.

Saphira and Thorn sniffed each other warily but seemed to open up to each other.

"I suppose you can't stay for too long?" Eragon said.

Murtagh nodded, "aye me and Thorn are to head up north to help the army fight the elves."

Eragon's eyes widened, "The Elves are now actively fighting!"

"Yes, they've cause quite a headache for our dear King." Murtagh grinned, "its pretty funny to seem him scowl at everything, his temper is pretty awful. He asked as where you had gone after the battle, I told him in the ancient language that you had fled and I could not follow you due to the Varden coming. It was true, you did flee the Varden and they did attack me. He never even checked my mind."

Eragon smiled, "seems he is growing arrogant and thinks you won't betray him if you could. I think I know of a way to release you from his bonds."

Murtagh looked at his fellow Rider with large eyes, Thorn swerved his head towards Eragon.

Eragon explained how if a person changes enough their True Name would change as well, completely breaking the bonds of servitude Galbatorix had placed on Murtagh and Thorn. "I'm sorry I did not tell you the last time our paths crossed," Eragon said, "I was to confused at the time."

Murtagh sighed, "It would do no good Eragon, the King possibly knows of this and has spells to alert him if our names ever change."

"But by then you would be long gone… At least try it." Eragon smiled, "I would like to have an older brother I get to annoy, that what little brothers do."

Murtagh laughed, "ay that is true, but I fear that time is not now, here I believe you would want this." He grabbed one of the bags and pulled out a sheath.

The sheath was beautiful, an aquamarine blue, only a couple tints lighter than Saphira's, when Murtagh tossed the sheath to him he grabbed the pummel of the sword. The gem on the pummel was a light blue sapphire. Eragon could feel the stored energy inside it. It felt familiar. He unsheathed the sword and his breath was taken as he gazed at the beautiful sword. Like the sheath it was aquamarine blue, it seemed to shine in the sunlight, it was a beautiful weapon. The blade was a long sword but seemed to be more elegant than any of the few Riders blades he had seen. As he held it in his hand, he could instantly feel the familiarity of the blade, as though he had been using that blade for his entire life. He twirled it in his hand, it could be used one handed or two handed, as he went through some forms of sword techniques he swung around with all of his strength and watched with fascination he saw the blade easily cut through a sapling.

"I take it you are pleased with it?" Murtagh asked as he watched Eragon continue swinging his sword like a master.

"Its amazing! It's as though it was made for me!" Eragon exclaimed, "what's the name of the sword?"

Murtagh gestured towards the hilt of the sword. Eragon inspected the hilt and saw a small rune. It said _Undbitr._

Eragon's heart fluttered, he knew of this sword. He had known his wielder.

"…This is Brom's sword."

"Yes… the blade belonged to Brom… It was also the blade that killed our father." Murtagh smiled, "I thought you would want it, neither of us really liked daddy dearest, eh? Brom was like a father to you, he was a better man than my father, even though I only knew him shortly. It was pretty hard to smuggle it out, that sword is one of Galbatorix's favorites, a memento of defeating Brom. Though of course he didn't know Brom was alive until the Raz'ac found you two."

"Murtagh…" Eragon said unable to believe the lengths his brother had gone to get the sword.

Murtagh grinned, "don't stand there with your mouth open like an idiot."

Eragon scowled while Murtagh just laughed, "okay okay, calm down. Here's something I thought you would want. This bag is enchanted so that they can't get into your head until you open the bag and actually touch one." He grabbed one of the bags and tossed it at Eragon. It was surprisingly heavy, even with Eragon's elf strength. Eragon unzipped the bag and put his hand in it. He immediately fell to the ground clutching his head in pain as multiple screaming voices entered his head. All screamed of nonsense and insanity. Murtagh quickly zipped the bag up, the voices stopped and Eragon slowly got up again.

"What, what was that!"

Murtagh looked at the bag with a slight amount of pity, "the reason why Galbatorix is so powerful."

Eragon heard his heartbeat thud as his world seemed to do a 180. "What!"

"I can't tell you what they are due to my damned oaths, Saphira knows."

Eragon whipped his head towards the blue dragon who looked away ashamed, "Saphira!"

"Eragon I do not have time to explain, the only reason I managed to get this to you is because he has so many, I can tell him I gave them to some magicians during the battle with the Elves. There's another bag of them, I also have enough coins to provide for you, when its safe and your sure no one is around you can open the bags. Saphira can explain what they are as you head back to wherever you live now. There are some other things in there as well. But I want to give you this." Murtagh produced a large scroll from Thorn's saddlebags.

Murtagh sat down and Eragon followed, Murtagh unrolled the scroll and spread it on the ground so the two humans and dragons could see. It was a map of the Empire, but it had many circles in different places on the map along with information. Eragon noticed a circle in Teirm. It said _"High Mage Carvic, _Eldunarí 12."

"Eldunarì? Doesn't that mean heart of hearts? What are those?" Eragon asked in confusion.

"This map contains all the knowledge I know on people who have some, it is your choice to get them or not. They'd help you a lot, of course there's the small part that they are insane."

"What!"

"Oh calm down I bet you can help cure them."

"Murtagh…"

"You'll figure it out, course they could make you insane as well."

Eragon glared at the dark-haired man, he sighed, "fine I'll see what I can do with these… heart of hearts. Saphira you need to explain."

Murtagh quickly rolled up the map and gave it to Eragon, "well I must be off! You know places to see, people to meet, you know." Eragon gave his brother a handshake before both dragons headed off towards their own destination. As Eragon looked back at Thorn's retreating form he thought with forlorn that he and Saphira were flying to freedom. While Murtagh and Thorn flew towards slavery. He vowed to free them. People would do anything for their family after all.

"_Saphira…"_ Eragon's voice echoed through the mental contact _"Explain… Now."_

Brom's sword, imagine it blue. resources/_wsb_548x446_


	6. Eldunarì

Saphira slowly landed outside the clearing where her cave was, Eragon jumped off of the saddle, he didn't look at her. During the flight back to their current home Saphira had explained. Everything. She told his about the Eldunarì and the power they held, the power that gave Galbatorix such strength. He currently contained 10 of them himself, five in each bag.

"_Why didn't you tell me!" _Eragon suddenly rounded on her, _"was it to protect me! I don't need protection, you should have told me! I'm not a fool Saphira I can handle things like this!"_

Saphira's head dipped in agreement, _"I know Eragon, but Glaedr and Oromis made me swear in the Ancient Language to not to tell a living soul, not even you. Unless you either chanced upon one yourself or you needed to know dearly."_

"_Are you hiding anything else from me?"_

Saphira didn't say anything. She merely walked into the cave. With a scowl Eragon set out after her and found her lying down with the egg in her paws. He decided not to pester her. She was only trying to protect him, even if he didn't need protecting anymore.

He unsaddled the saddle from Saphira and grabbed a bag that held five of the ten Eldunarì.

"Dragons are really in there?" Eragon muttered in awe.

_Yes… my kind lives on through there._ Saphira growled, _used by the Egg Breaker as energy for his dark crimes!_

Eragon paid no heed to the murderous thoughts of Saphira still staring at the bag. He placed his strongest wards in his mind along with Saphira's before opening the bag all the way. Despite the wards the strength of ten Eldunarì found themselves in their heads, albeit quieter.

Acting fast Eragon grabbed one of the Eldunarì and got it out of the bag before zipping it shut. Now there was only one voice yelling in his head, it went silent when it realized its Eldunarì brethren were no longer with it.

Eragon finally got a first look of an Eldunarì, it was around the size Saphira's egg had been and was dark purple with light purple tendrils extending throughout the Eldunarì. It was glowing softly in the dimness of the cave, Eragon watched entranced at the swirling lights that were in the center, like millions of stars moving as one.

Eragon along with Saphira cautiously extended a tendril of their thoughts towards the glowing object.

"_Uhm hello?"_ Eragon asked timidly.

"_Death! Murder! Endless slaughter! Eggs broken! Hatchlings dead! Humans, Dwarfs, Elves, all dead! Dark magic, so much destruction! So many dead! Why is it so dark! Where's Raik!"_ A deep male's voice roared through the duo's head.

"_Peace, there are no dead ones here, brother. You are safe."_ Saphira spoke calmly hoping to calm down the crazed dragon.

"_Raik is that you! Raik! Why is your voice so high-pitched?"_ the dragon spoke again.

"_I'm not Raik. I'm Saphira, I'm one of the last free dragons alive."_

"_Where's Raik!"_

"_Was Raik your Rider?"_ Eragon asked the Eldunarì, immediately a great wave of anger came from the Eldunarì.

"_IS! Raik is my Rider! Where is he? I know… he's… he's probably hiding from me like he did when I was a hatchling. He always told me that I had to search for him. I have to find him!"_

"_What is your name?" _Saphira asked.

The Eldunarì was silent before answering, _"Uznov… who are you?"_

"_I told you, I'm Saphira. I'm one of the last free dragons left alive. I'm sorry Uznov but your Rider is dead."_

A wail of sorrow echoed through their minds, _"NO! You lie! Raik isn't dead! He's… He's just playing hide and seek like we always did!"_

"_Uznov do you remember? The war? Galbatorix and the Forsworn?"_

"_I…. I remember! The war, oh so many dragons and Riders dead! Eggs shattered, humans, dwarfs, and elves alike slain by the Mad Man! And Raik… he... was killed by that Kilaìndi! Where is he! I want to rip him apart!"_ Uznov roared in hatred and sorrow.

"_Kilaìndi is already dead, he along with the Forsworn. Its only Galbatorix left."_ Eragon spoke.

"_You! Who are you!?"_

"_I'm Eragon. I'm the Rider of Saphira… And the last free Rider fighting the war."_

Uznov snarled, _"You lie! You're like that Red Dragon and his Rider! You are slaves of the king, sent to punish me and take my energy!"_

"_I would never serve the king! Let me show you who I am Uznov, so you may know what type of person I am." _Eragon sent him memories of his childhood spent on his farm and Carvahall. He showed him hunting for food and the time spent with his family and friends. He showed him finding Saphira's egg and her hatching for him. Of him raising her and finally the Raz'ac attacking. He showed him his adventures until he found himself in the Dwarf Capitol, he showed him being betrayed by the Varden. He showed him of him finding the last free dragon egg. He showed him his plans for the war.

Uznov was silent, pondering on what he had seen. _"You're like Raik."_ He finally said, _"you have that same big heart of his, and the ability to find trouble from anywhere."_ He laughed slightly, _"I've seen enough Eragon. You've saved me from myself, I am in your debt. I want to help you to kill the King. For my kin killed, the Riders slaughtered, for the people we protected butchered… And for Raik. I want to help you."_

Eragon and Saphira smiled, happy that the Eldunarì had found a small amount of peace, the mood turned somber when Uznov continued, _"but I alone can't help change the tides of war. You must help my fellow Eldunarì, none of us are exactly sane at the moment. And even then ten Eldunarì won't be enough to kill Galbatorix._" The mood was somber until Uznov continued, _"But! You have something the King does not have! A goal, a passion, a sense of duty. You want to free your people from his cruelty, and a man with a goal worth dying for and coming right back to fight again is a dangerous man… And you have your brother who is not loyal to Galbatorix… and one other thing."_

Eragon turned his gaze towards the white Dragon Egg and swore that he saw it glow faintly moonlight like a beacon. And it was a beacon, a beacon of hope.

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Eragon had a small smile on his face as he pounded away at a broken horseshoe. It was easy to fix it, with his superior elf-strength it was easier to fix things, of course he did have to be careful he could easily break the hammer if he hit too hard.

The reason for his smiling was because of the joy that was radiating from Uznov's Eldunarì as he experienced flight again. Saphira allowed him into her mindscape and from there, Uznov was able to feel the winds touching Saphira's wings, the currents carrying her to wherever she pleased. The scent of the pine trees and the musky scent of the animals below them. And above all being able to see again, he got to see again for the first time in centuries. If he had an actual body Eragon bet he would have cried in joy.

Uznov's mentality had been steadily improving, there were still times when he was overcome with grief with Raik's death and would howl his sorrow but with Saphira and Eragon he was steadily improving knowing Raik would be angry that he would muck around in sorrow.

They had yet to open the bag again, as it had only been a week since they had returned and meeting Uznov. They hoped that Uznov could help them with healing his fellow Eldunarì, they were going to contact an Eldunarì that Uznov had known when he was alive. Hopefully Uznov could help with that.

When he had returned to the forge Ronan had eagerly asked about his trip to Therisford. Eragon told him about the town, which he had visited for supplies. The two joked around while working before night settled and Ronan returned to his home and Eragon returned to the Inn.

Some of towns people crowded around him as he told a hilarious tale of _Heric the Unlucky Warrior._ A tale about a simple farmer becoming a warrior and going off on quests that always seemed to end in hilarious unfortunate outcomes.

As Eragon counted the coins given to him he noticed with slight surprise that Avor had sat down across from him.

"Avor." He nodded his head in acknowledgment.

"Rulf." Avor exhaled a puff of smoke from his pipe, "listen I've 'preaciated you helping 'round the forge and all but that's not what I wanna talk to you about." He took the pipe out of his mouth, "it's about Ronan."

"What's wrong? Is he hurt?" Eragon asked in concern.

Avor waved away his question "no, Ronan's fine. Its just that I noticed when you come by the forge he always comes to you and listen to your stories and experiences. I don't care about that, good for the boy to learn of things outside his village." Avor took a swig of his ale. "Ronan looks up to you Rulf."

Eragon blinked and raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"Ronan looks up to you, pretty self explanatory. Albrich isn't exactly a man of words, he's a thinker and Ronan is more of a doer. You seem to be like Ronan, both of you are more of the adventurous type. And being all 'round the entire world he looks up to you more an' I understand that he's the type that doesn't want to live in the village where he grows up just fixing ol' horseshoes and nails. I want him to become a master smith in a big city, where everyone goes to get their weapons fixed and their fancy objects made. If he were to leave and you could help him I'd appreciate it." And before Eragon could reply Avor got up and left the Inn.

Eragon looked at the closing door with a confused look, _"what just happened?"_

"_Hmm, seems the father thinks that his son see's you as another elder brother though more like him in interests." _Uzovsaid in his mind.

"_But I can't be a brother figure to someone right now! I'm currently trying to figure out how to fight the King without a single man helping me at the moment!"_

"_We'll figure it out later, you should return little one."_ Saphira said.

Eragon mentally nodded before heading up to his room making sure everyone see him leave. As soon as he reached the room he quickly jumped out of the window and dashed across the town, the night covering his movements. In the course of five minutes running as fast as good, his feet barely making a sound even in the Spine, he reached the cave.

His improved eyes could make out the outline of Saphira, Uznov's Eldunarì was glowing faintly in the cave.

Eragon leaned against Saphira's leg as he cradled Uznov's Eldunarì in the crook of one arm. He grabbed _Unbitr_ and slowly channeled all of his available energy into the flawless sapphire. Even before he started adding his energy to the gem it was filled with Brom's old energy. But his project would need every ounce of energy he had.

Saphira started to channel all of her available energy into the gem as well. She didn't know what Eragon planned to do but from what she saw from the traces of the thoughts she knew he would need it, Uznov helped as well. He probably channeled the most energy as he had large amounts of energy at disposal.

"_Are you going to tell us what you are planning, young Rider?"_ Uznov asked the young man.

Eragon shook his head, _"if I told you you'd both call me a fool and that it was impossible, but I think we can do it!"_

"_That defiantly assures me Little One."_

Eragon pouted slightly, _"Trust me Saphira! I promise I'll tell you when we actually get there!"_

Eragon closed his eyes. Draining energy sure did take a lot of him. He instantly fell asleep.

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Eragon woke up as the sound of birdcalls entered the cave, the sunlight was shining inside the cave. Saphira was still asleep, Eragon got up and went outside with his bow in his hands. He didn't have to go to the forge today so he decided to hunt.

During his time training under the tutelage of the elves Eragon had soon discarded the idea of eating meat, but during their flee from Surda he had no choice but to eat meat once again. He had soon gotten use to eating meat again, though he swore never to kill an animal for no reason or just for sport.

Eragon soon found himself following the twisting trails of various animals, he crouched down and saw fresh deer tracks.

He stealthily and silently followed the trail, nothing escaping his eyes. He noticed that the leaves were starting to change color, Fall was upon them and soon Winter would follow.

After around fifteen minutes of following the trail he came across a small clearing, inside it were a doe and a buck scavenging for anything to eat. With practiced ease Eragon silently grabbed and arrow and notched it, he aimed it at the buck, eyes looking directly at where his heart was. He released the arrow.

_Thwak!_

The arrow struck the buck directly in the heart, he fell to the ground. The doe reared in alarm and bolted, Eragon quickly notched another arrow and shot another arrow. The doe fell down.

Eragon walked up to the two deer, he quickly grabbed both and put them on his shoulder before heading back to the cave. He made it back in around ten minutes.

He got to work on skinning the doe, he cleaned the carcass and set the pelt out to dry, he then butchered everything before dumping any of the unwanted pieces out in the woods for the other animals to eat. He left the buck alone.

Saphira had awoken at the scent of blood, when she saw it was just a deer instead of Eragon she relaxed. She yawned and stretched like a cat, _"morning Little One."_ She muttered sleepily.

"_Morning Saphira."_ Eragon said cheerfully, _"I think we should try and help Uznov's friend."_

Uznov joined the conversation, _"I agree, I don't like the idea of Dracan being stuck all alone, we need to help him."_

Eragon opened up a bag, the voices immediately assaulted his mind but with the help of Uznov and Saphira he managed to push them back. He quickly looked around the bag before finding the Eldunarì he was looking for.

He quickly grabbed the one he was looking for. It was a dark green and was slightly larger than Uznov's Eldunarì. He zipped up the bag, he settled the Eldunarì on the ground, _"ready?"_ he asked his dragon and Eldunarì who both agreed before all three entered the mind scape of the green Eldunarì.

Eragon found himself on some sort of plain filled with long wavy grass that was dark green and was blowing in a soft wind. He took a step forward and heard a crunch underneath his foot. He glanced down and saw a shattered orange dragon egg. The place shifted, it was still the same plain but the grass was now dead and on fire. Countless bodies of dragons and their Riders, elves and dwarfs, were everywhere. The soil was stained red with blood.

"_Drakan!"_ Uznov roared, effectively shattering the plain. Eragon found himself back in the cave.

"_Uznov?" _a deep voice muttered.

"_Its me Drakan. It's Uznov, you remember me right? We're hatch mates! Remember me brother!_

"_Its so dark Uznov, so dark. W-Where's Kara? Uznov where is Kara!"_ the voice yelled.

"_She's gone Drakan… Like Raik. We're dead, as are our riders. Don't you remember the war? The years spent in servitude of the Oath Breaker?"_

"_No…. no your lying! Kara isn't dead! She's here I know it!"_ Drakan whispered in denial.

"_I wish I were, Raik is dead as well. Everyone is dead Drakan. This boy and she-dragon are the last free Rider and Dragon left fighting the war."_

"_Hello Drakan, I'm Eragon and this is my dragon Saphira."_ Eragon greeted the second Eldunarì.

"_She's gone."_ Drakan whimpered, _"she can't be gone!"_

"_I'm sorry Drakan."_ Uznov said sadly, _"don't give up! Eragon is the only Rider fighting the King, he needs all the help he can get! We can help him Drakan! We can avenge our masters, our fellow dragons and riders, and Raik and Kara, we can make things right!"_

"_I… don't know Uznov. I'm so scared. I want Kara. Why is it so dark here? I don't like it."_

"_Drakan, what would Kara think if she saw you like this?"_

"_She'd yell at me for being a coward. But I'm not a coward I'm lonely."_

"_Drakan you have me, your brother! You have Eragon and Saphira and the other Eldunarì once when we help them, you're` not alone any more. We have each other, Kara wouldn't want you to hide, she'd want you to fight!_

Drakan feelings started to show determination, _"Kara would want that…. I'll help! You! Rider, show me why I should help you!"_

Eragon showed Drakan the memories he had shown Uznov, the Eldunarì finally spoke after a few moments of pondering, _"you are worthy of being a Rider. Going through so much in the course of a year, being betrayed by the ones whom you had fought for, and you don't even harbor any hatred towards them."_

Eragon nodded his head, _"I do not hate the entire Varden, the majority do not even know of that meeting. I won't go out of my way to destroy them, I already have the Empire to fight, but I won't join them again. Its up to them if we are true enemies or friends."_

"_You are indeed worthy to become the leader of the next order of the Riders."_ Uznov said.

Eragon looked at the purple Eldunarì with slight surprise, _"I do not think I am worthy of such a position."_

"_Ah but you are Eragon, you have honor, a sense of duty to your people, a passion to keep your loved ones safe, and undying loyalty. You are a born leader."_ Uznov said.

Eragon bowed his head humbly, _"I am honored that you think so much of me."_

Uznov and Drakan laughed, _"Oh I like him." _Drakan said.

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Eragon watched as Saphira took off with the two Eldunarì in her claws, he went over to Saphira's make shift nest and grabbed the dragon egg before placing it into his pack. It had taken a lot to convince Saphira to agree with his plan, it was only after Uznov and Drakan had agreed did she reluctantly agree. He grabbed the buck and put it one his shoulder before heading back to Ursür, he sold the buck to the butcher. It would explain why he was not in town yesterday. He headed to the forge and greeted Albrich, Avor, and Ronan. He started to heat up iron ore for making a new plow. The day passed by until the sun was soon to set. As Albrich and Avor headed into the house Ronan made to follow but stopped when Rulf put a hand on his shoulder.

"What's wrong Rulf?" Ronan asked with a frown.

Rulf smiled, "Oh nothing, but I wanted you to hold on to something for me." He went over to his pack and pulled out a large white polished stone. Rulf handed it over to Ronan.

Ronan stared at the stone in shock and awe, marveling at the beauty of the stone. It was pure white with smaller and darker veins of white running through it like a spider web. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever laid eyes on. "Rulf what is-?"

"Just a stone I picked up during my many travels. Ronan that stone is very important to me, don't let anyone see you with it. Make sure you keep an eye on it. It'll only be for a little while."

Before Ronan could say anything else Rulf walked away leaving a gapping Ronan holding a large white stone.

Ronan shrugged and headed into the house, he made sure for his father and brother not to see it. He went to his room on the second floor. It was plain, with pine flooring and roofing. A nightstand was standing by a small bed, filled with different things he had found during his adventures either near the village or in the Spine. A simple red wool rug was on the floor, a window showed the countryside and the main road. Ronan placed the stone on his nightstand before crashing on his bed and falling asleep instantly.

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(Later that night)

_The hatchling stirred from within his shell. He had sensed the large she-dragon and Rider talking. Some other deeps voices had come too. He didn't know what they looked like, being stuck in dark-shell. He remembered being buried in the underneath before being found. He felt the presence of his kind and some other being, like the pointy-ears and non-pointy ears, but mixed. Finally half-pointy-ear had given him to non-pointy ear. He immediately felt a connection with the non-pointy ear. He knew he was Chosen-Rider. The dark-shell, which had once felt so safe, now felt like a prison. He wanted to get out, to be with his Rider!_

Outside of the shell Ronan was snoring, completely unaware of the shivering egg that was placed on his nightstand. The egg fell of the wool rug and started shaking and squeaking.

Ronan woke up with a jolt. He grabbed a hammer from besides his bed and stepped on the floor looking around for any intruders. Another squeak. Ronan looked at the ground and saw the stone was moving, he watched with fascination as a crack appeared. Then another. And another. A small piece of the shell broke off, and Ronan saw a small head poke off before the now known egg shattered.

Ronan just stood there, he dropped his hammer, eyes bulging, jaw dropped.

For right in front of him, its scales glinting in the pale moonshine, was a dragon hatchling.

**Yep Ronan's the Rider, surprised? Eragon and Saphira have gained the help of two Eldunarì and are working to help the others. Review, you guys have no idea how much they help inspire me to write. I also accept constructive criticism, but no flames. Do the characters seem right, I know Murtagh is a little OC but I'll try and keep him like he is in the books. **


	7. Rider

Ronan was still gapping at the dragon hatchling. The hatchling paid no attention to the boy, now out of its shell the baby dragon eagerly explored the room. It squeaked when its head bumped into the door.

A smile tugged at Ronan's lips as he slowly calmed down, he got down on his knees, "hey little guy." The dragon immediately perked its head at the voice of its Rider, as fast as its little legs could carry him. The hatchling stumbled his way over to Ronan.

Ronan hesitantly moved his right hand towards the dragon, his hand and the dragons head connected.

Immediately Ronan felt a rush of power course through him, but along with that came great amounts of pain. He heard a voice that was not his own echo through his head. He fell unconscious.

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Ronan slowly awoke when he felt something wet lap against his cheek. He slowly opened his eyes and immediately saw a pair of gold eyes gazing into his own hazel eyes.

"Gah!" Ronan yelled and scuttled backwards like a carb, the dragon fell off his chest making it squeak indignantly.

Ronan slowly calmed down again, so it's wasn't a dream. A real dragon was in his room.

He paled. Oh crap a real _dragon_ was in his room!

Ronan felt something scaly brush his leg, he immediately tensed thinking he would feel that great pain but he felt nothing. The dragon looked at the boy with big golden eyes, his heart softened as he looked at the dragon.

The dragon hatchling was pure white, as white as the egg that had encased it. Not even the most pure snow could hope to compare to it, small spikes erupted from the dragon's spine, while they was not as pure white as his scales, they were more of a softer white. Its eyes were a great gold, no coin or treasure could hope to compare with those eyes. But Ronan immediately knew from looking at the dragons eyes was one thing. It was intelligent. It could think.

Ronan scratched the dragon's chin, it started to purr deeply. Ronan smiled before he noticed something on his palm, he saw with raised eyebrows that a large white mark had appeared on his palm. He scratched at it but it remained the same. Ronan shook his head is disbelief. Yesterday he had been a simple blacksmith's son, now. Now he was a Dragon Rider.

He paused at those words; he was now part of the once undefeatable dragon riders. He had a dragon and could become a great warrior and rider like those before him! His happy mood was dampened as he realized that he was in the Northern part of the Empire with no one to help him. There was only one other free dragon and Rider left in the world. Eragon Shadeslayer and his dragon Saphira, and they were all the way in Surda. There was no way he could get there with a dragon hatchling and not get caught and sent to the king.

The dragon hatchling gave a small squawk that he guessed was a roar, which broke him out of his train of thought. "I'm sorry you must be hungry. Wait here." Ronan quickly left the room, making sure the door was closed he went to the cellar and grabbed some cured deer jerky, he went back into his room and saw his dragon curled up on his pillow.

The dragon immediately scarfed down the jerky, it slowly settled into a deep sleep. Ronan scratched the hatchling and smiled as it purred in contentment.

"Ronan!" Avor's voice roared through the house making Ronan jump and the hatchling to wake up, "get down here! You and Rulf need to fix that merchants wheel!"

Ronan sighed and got up from his bed, the dragon made to follow him, "no stay!" Ronan said as the dragon stopped. "Stay here and don't leave." Keeping an eye on the dragon Ronan left the room.

Ronan exited the house and after bidding a good morning to his father he trudged down to the forge, he had gloves on to hide the mark on his hand. Since he was in a forge he had a good excuse.

Rulf was already at work. He was inspecting the cracked metal outing of the wheel with an experienced eye. When Ronan came near him Rulf smiled, "morning Ronan."

"Morning Rulf." Ronan looked at the wheel and sighed, "it'd do no good, it has to be remolded and everything."

Rulf shrugged, "we may as well start then." He grabbed some of the firewood and put it in the fire.

"Hey Rulf I wanted to ask you something." At Rulf enquiring gaze he continued, "well you've been everywhere and all, and you know a lot about the Riders and their Dragons I was wondering if-"

"If I could tell you another tale of the Riders of Old?" Rulf smiled, "sure why not, once there was a rider named-"

"No. I mean about Riders who are actually here right now."

Rulf stopped talking immediately, he gazed at the boy with slight suspicion, "what do you mean?"

"Well you've been south and I was wondering if you've ever seen the Varden's Rider, Eragon Shadeslayer and his dragon Saphira."

Rulf gaze unnerved the boy. Ronan could see suspicion in the man's eye along with a hint of… knowing? Ronan felt his gut twist. Did Rulf _know_ that was a dragon egg and it had hatched for him? He discarded the idea immediately. He hadn't known it was an egg until a dragon had erupted from it, what was to say Rulf knew what it was?

"Sure I guess, I must admit I don't know much of them… seeing as how they usually stick with the Varden and don't have time for a simple traveler. But I do remember meeting someone in contact with the Varden who had been with the young Rider during the battle of Farthen Dûr.

Ronan listen with awe at how Eragon had killed the shade Durza, where he had gotten the name 'Shadeslayer'. "Wow he's really cool, have you really not met him?"

Rulf just smiled, "no I'm afraid not but I have seen him from a distance along with his dragon."

"How big was she?" he asked wondering how big his dragon would be.

"Around the size of a small house I guess."

"What!" Ronan spluttered out, how was he to hide his dragon in his bedroom if it grew to be bigger than his home?

"Dragons never stop growing Ronan, a hatchling often has many growth spurts, after a couple months of being born a dragon could be big enough to carry someone, though they have to be six months old to be able to breath fire."

"I see." Ronan mumbled out.

"_Something's not right, you think the egg hatched for the boy? That was fast."_ Uznov said within Eragon's mind.

"_Or he could just be curious, we'll keep an eye on him though."_

Ronan didn't ask Rulf for any more information, they spent the rest of the day redoing the wheel, by the end of the day the wheel was done and Ronan was tired. Ronan slipped a couple more pieces of jerky from the cellar along with some of his own dinner.

The dragon was waiting for him, it immediately devoured the meat before settling in Ronan's lap. Ronan sighed, "What am I going to do?" he asked the dragon who merely burped and fell asleep.

Ronan smiled, he cradled the baby dragon in his arms. He frowned slightly remembering what Rulf had said about dragon hatchlings and their growth rates, along with how to find food. The dragon was the size of the many barn cats and yet it had eaten two handfuls of meat! Ronan fell asleep still holding his dragon.

(Early in the morning)

Ronan placed the snoozing hatchling on his pillow, he stealthily went down the stairs and grabbed extra leather strips and any stray rags, he headed towards the forge and took a normal sized hammer and some nails along with a small saw. He headed towards the Spine, he ventured in and after walking for around five minutes came to a small clearing he had found when he had hunted some years ago. He found a suitable knarled oak and cut off the branches of some young maple trees and set to work.

The sun was starting to rise, and Ronan looked at his work with satisfaction. The old oak was now a suitable place for a dragon hatchling to live, the crude hut was big enough for Ronan to squeeze in and hopefully the dragon will be able to in the upcoming months, all he needed now was an extra day to make it safe from predators and help keep the heat in when Fall ends and Winter comes.

Ronan hurried back home and came to the home just as everyone was coming down for breakfast.

"Hm Ronan what are you doing up so early?" Avor asked as he sat down in old pine chair.

Ronan shrugged, "just woke up early." He scarfed down some of the bacon, "thought I'd take a small walk, that's all."

Avor snorted, "hmph when I was your age all I did was work and sleep."

Ronan grinned, "you were my age once?"

Avor snorted while Ronan laughed, "haha very funny Ronan."

"So where's brother?"

"Albrich is at Kerena's house, her husband's old plough ain't working like it used too."

Ronan smirked, "are you sure its just that or because Rosa lives there as well?" he asked talking about a girl Albrich's age with dark brown hair and light brown eyes, someone who Albrich had an intense crush on.

Avor laughed, "aha you got me there. Ah its good that Albrich is looking for someone to settle down with, I haven't seen you try and court any of the girls your age."

Ronan's ears burned red, "dad!" Ronan yelled with a small blush.

Avor grinned. He finished his breakfast and put the dishes in the sink, he clasped Ronan in the shoulder, "come one you, we got work to do." He strode out of the kitchen.

Ronan shook his head in amusement before following his father out of the house.

The day passed by and Ronan did not ask Rulf any more stories, he was slightly uneasy by the curious gaze Rulf had given him and when Rulf glanced at the gloves that hide his silvery mark he had a feeling he knew why he was wearing gloves.

As the day ended Ronan would scarf down his dinner while sneaking pieces and bolt up the stairs before his father had even sat in his chair. The dragon was waiting for him like it did every day. It jumped from the post of the bed to his waiting arms, gliding with its white wings.

Ronan smiled happily while the dragon nuzzled him, "hey buddy." He greeted while the dragon merely blinked.

Ronan was convinced the dragon was intelligent, ever since the dragon had hatched for him and he had been marked a space of _openness_ had formed inside his head. He guided his thoughts to that spot, _"hello."_ The dragon perked its head up.

The sun was still on horizon and Ronan decided to go outside with the dragon, he managed to hide the dragon in his hunting pack and, ignoring the squeals of displeasure headed off towards where he had built the hut.

Ronan placed the dragon in the hut before closing it with a small door he had woven out of slender willow branches. The dragon didn't say anything and only looked on with those big sad eyes, _"Stay here."_ Ronan said in his mind.

Ronan left the clearing as night started to set, he ignored with a pained heart of the gaze that was burning into his back as he left the dragon in the clearing.

Ronan woke up the next morning early. He immediately grabbed an extra blanket in his room along with his bow and arrow along with rags and several handfuls of food before sprinting out of the house. Ronan saw with relief the small woven door was still on the hut.

As Ronan nearly ripped off the door to get to the dragon it jumped into his chest immediately, Ronan hugged it tightly, "I'm sorry." He muttered over and over.

As the dragon ate the food from Ronan's hand Ronan started to talk to it. He told the dragon about himself and his family. He told it about his town and the many hunts in the Spine. He told him that he was a blacksmith and had one day hoped to leave his small village and go to a big city and be a world renowned smith, though he doubted he could ever do that now, but he told the dragon he was happy it hatched for him.

The dragon never spoke, it merely listened and looked at him with bright eyes. Ronan kept on talking and talking, he didn't notice the sun starting to rise. Today was when everyone had a day off from the forge.

After a couple hours of talking Ronan placed the dragon on his shoulder and got his bow and arrow, he was going to show the dragon the different animals there were. Ronan immediately found a small rabbit trail, he glanced around and saw the near camouflage hide of the rabbit, he immediately shot it.

The dragon jumped off his shoulder and gently glided to the ground, he curiously nuzzled the dead rabbit. "See that dragon, that a rabbit, you can- hey!" The dragon ripped into the dragon and started to devour it. Ronan watched in amazement as the dragon ate the entire rabbit. The dragon's eyes drooped and yawned, Ronan then noticed how sharp those teeth were, especially when they were covered in blood. Ronan grabbed his canteen filled with cool water and cleaned the white dragon who was covered in the rabbit blood. "Remind me not to get on your bad side, eh?" Ronan said with a grin with the dragon merely burped.

Ronan spent the rest of the day showing his dragon everything he knew about the Spine and everything else.

**The egg has hatched and Ronan's trying to figure out what to do, kinda reminds you of what happened with Eragon. The next few chapters may go a little fast paced but they will slow down, trust me it's going to get interesting. The next update may not be for awhile since I want to write farther into the story before updating but it wont be a month long wait. **

**Next Chapter: The Kings Men**


	8. The Kings Men

**The King's Men**

A couple weeks had passed and the dragon had gotten bigger and bigger. Its head had now reached Ronan's shoulder and was no longer a small weak baby, it was now a formidable predator. With scales as hard as armor and teeth and claws as sharp as swords the dragon showed Ronan why they were so feared in the first place.

Ronan was patting the dragon on the snout as it was eating a small doe it had caught earlier. He smiled looking at the bigger dragon, he wasn't big enough to ride though and he often grew wistful as he saw the dragon fly.

_Ronan._

Ronan paused patting the dragon and looked around in alarm, thinking someone had come into the clearing.

_Ronan._

Ronan's head swerved to the dragon. His wide green eyes looked into dark calm gold. _Ronan._

"Y-You can talk!" Ronan yelled.

_Ronan._ The voice was deep and guttural, it was obviously male but the voice was still young.

He hugged the dragon. _My dragon._ The dragon hummed in pleasure at Ronan's answer.

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It had been a week since the dragon had first talk to him, and he was eager to learn more words. Yes the dragon was a male judging by its more masculine form and deep voice. He had no idea what a female dragon looked like but the dragon had a more muscular build than what he assumed a female had. He had also been trying to think of a name for the dragon since he doubted he liked to be called 'the dragon' but he knew of no names to think of. He didn't dare to ask Rulf, he was already suspicious and he doubted asking about dragon names would help the situation. As Ronan spent the time in the forge he would communicate with the dragon with his mind, for some reason whenever he was near Rulf the connection to his dragon seemed to fade as though there was some sort of barrier.

Ronan was currently on his way to the inn, he had to go meet the innkeeper, a man named Svetr. A tall gangly man and give him the fixed barrel rungs. Rulf was coming with his as there were multiple barrels, as the two walked into the inn they immediately knew something was wrong. The tavern/inn was quieter than usual and there were people laughing that did not seem familiar.

Ronan instantly noticed the hardening of Rulf eyes as he looked over the barrel he was holding with burning anger. Ronan then saw why, for sitting in a booth drinking to the bottom of their large mugs were three men dressed in chainmail and other armor. He immediately noticed the red and black coloring of the armor and a logo of a twisted flame on their right shoulders.

The symbol of Galbatorix.

Ronan shook slightly, did they know he was a Dragon Rider?

"_Careful, they serve the Egg Breaker. But with half-pointy ear, you safe."_ Ronan's dragon spoke in his mind, _"half-pointy ear? Who's that?"_ Ronan asked but the dragon did not speak again.

The duo dropped off the barrels and made to leave before he saw Rulf stop and stare at the soldiers. Ronan followed his gaze and saw one of the soldiers had gotten up and as was talking to the crowd of people around them. They got closer and moved through the small crowd, "attention people of the Empire! Our great King Galbatorix has issued a bounty on the Dragon Rider Eragon Shadeslayer along with his dragon Saphira!" he announced and Ronan watched out of the corner of his eye that Rulf tensed.

A local farmer spoke through the crowd, "and why would you be telling us this? We're in the northern part of the Empire! That rider wouldn't be here, he's with the Varden!" the people muttered their agreement.

The speaker held his head high, "it appears that the Rider has apparently fled from the Varden." Immediately voices started shouting, "you liar! Why would he leave the Varden, he has nowhere else to go!" and such things.

"Silence!" the man roared and everyone grew quiet, the speaker grabbed a poster and brandished it to the crowd. Ronan gasped silently as he saw the picture of his fellow Rider for the first time.

He kinda looked like Rulf. They both had the same brown hair and rugged look but Rulf's nose was different as was his eye color and his facial shape was slightly different but other than that he could be his twin.

"This is the Rider, anyone who has any knowledge of this man must report to the nearest official! We have been sent by our great king to spread the word. Farewell!" the soldiers left and got on their war horses before riding north toward the other villages to spread the news that the Varden's great Rider may have deserted and was possibly hiding in the Empire.

The crowd watched as the soldiers disappeared, a man snorted "hmph our great king my arse. If I see the Rider I'm sure as hell aint going to tell no anyone. I'd rather have that Rider as our king than the Mad Rider." Everyone nodded in agreement.

Ronan glanced around and saw that Rulf was nowhere to be found, he glanced at the poster of Eragon again before leaving.

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Eragon was running, he ran and ran until he reached the cave. _"They know. They know I may be in the Empire!"_

"_Relax young Rider, they do not know where you are exactly otherwise Galbatorix and your brother would have been here. No doubt the leaders of the Varden are trying to hide your disappearance." _A female's voice spoke gently.

"_Amara, it would be wise to consider all options. For all we know the Kin Killer is on his way right now, then he'd take Eragon and make him swear loyalty to him. Our order will be gone with no hope. The final end of a great era."_ A male's voice growled out.

"_Oh shush Yaroc you're such a downer!" _Amara spoke jokingly.

"_Guys will you shut up?"_ a young male's voice spoke. He didn't even sound like he had been a full-grown dragon before he had died.

"_Shut up Drez!"_ Yaroc roared.

Eragon sighed as he gazed at the five glowing Eldunarì, Amara's Eldunarì was around the size of Drakan's Eldunarì and was a rosy red, Yaroc's Eldunarì was by far the biggest, around twice the size of a Saphira's egg had been and needed two hands to carry, he was a dark silver Eldunarì that shown with authority and power. Drez was the smallest, only the half the size of a size of Uznoc's and could be held with one hand, he was a dark royal blue.

He, Saphira, Uznov, and Drakan had been working on the recovery of the other Eldunarì. Now there was only five more to help, it had taken awhile for the dead dragons to recover. Drez was the hardest. He had been killed when he was only seven months old and was by far the youngest of them, he had barely spoke even when they ventured in his mind and saw it plagued with his riders death along with his kin. The Eldunarì were still recovering but they weren't considered to be unstable, Yaroc was the technical leader of the Eldunarì, he and his rider had been on the council before their deaths. He had been the mentor to Drez, who always seemed to annoy the serious dragon with his excitable and hotheaded attitude. It cheered up Eragon and Saphira that the now dead dragons were slowly regaining their sanity, they weren't completely healed, not even Uznov and Drakan, but at least they weren't incoherent shrieks now.

"_We need a plan, we can't stay here forever Little One." _ Saphira said.

Eragon sighed, _I know Saphira. _He sat on her leg and idly noticed how much she had grown in the last couple of months, _but I want to know if the egg hatches for Ronan, he reminds me of myself back before any other this._ He gestured at the cave and his new fate as the last free Dragon Rider that was fighting in the war, _"happened. If the egg hatches for him then we will go, I'll teach Ronan what Oromis-elda had taught me and you will teach the hatchling if it even hatches for him."_

Drez spoke, _but Eragon even if the egg does hatch what about Ronan? What if he doesn't want to leave?_

Yaroc spoke, _hush Drez if that boy becomes a rider he has a duty! He must train and grow strong and to help in this damned war, Eragon is alone, outmatched, outnumbered, odds completely against him- _Yaroc listed off.

_Wow thanks Yaroc-elda. _Eragon thought sarcastically.

Yaroc snorted, _just stating the facts boy. But if another Rider were to appear and join Eragon, then we actually have a chance. Our resistance will have two riders and two living dragons. The king has his dragon along with Murtagh and Thorn though they are not loyal to them, only their vows keep them at the King's side. But if those vows were taken away then we will have another rider and dragon with us. The Varden have none unless you count Oromis and Glaedr who are crippled and cannot help. _

_That is if the egg even hatches. _Amara concluded. _And Eragon you have still not told us of your plan. You say you have found a way for all of us to hide and plan our next move. Our headquarters you might say, a place where we have no fear of being found._

Eragon nodded, _yes I've thought of what we should do._

_Then what is it?_ Drez asked excitably.

_Uhmm I can't really tell you._ Eragon noticed the anger building within Saphira and the Eldunarì, _b-but I will tell you when the time is right! I want to wait until we are actually there, if I told you now you would call it foolish and impossible._

_Well that's reassuring._ Drakan mumbled out.

_If you think we will say it's impossible than why are you still going to do it Eragon?_ Uznov asked.

Eragon looked at the five Eldunarì with determination in his eyes and soul, _because the impossible does not apply to us. How many times do you think people had thought that the only remaining dragon eggs were with Galbatorix and how unlikely that they would even hatch? Two of them hatched in the span of a year! We found another dragon egg! The impossible does not exist. It is just an excuse for the faint-hearted who have no determination to give up. We do not believe in the impossible, for we achieve the impossible! Because we have passion in our hearts and in our souls! The impossible is a standard that we have already passed. We will not fail as long as we have each other to depend on and we know we have each other's back!_

The dragons grew silent, Saphira nuzzled him. _You have grown Little One_. A small toothy grin appeared on her face. _You used to be terrified of speeches and speaking to people. But you probably gave the most inspiration speech I've heard in my lifetime._

Yaroc spoke, _Indeed Eragon Shadeslayer. Very well, we will be patient and we will wait, we Eldunarì have existed for over a century we can wait a little longer. We have faith in you, as the leader of the dragon riders, and as a comrade._

Eragon blushed slightly as the compliment from the Elder Dragon. _Thanks._

_But I will tell you this. _Everyone paid keen attention, Eragon's mind was calm and they could not detect no hints, _it will serve as the perfect spot for a hiding rider and dragon and even another pair and plenty of room to host many men, but above all Galbatorix will never think of the place even if its in his Empire._ Eragon grinned, _trust me if it works out it'll be a huge advantage._ Eragon went to the entrance of the cave and looked across. They were high up in the mountains of the Spine, he could see the forge from here but only because of his elf-sight. He narrowed his eyes when he saw a shape run from the house and into the woods. "Where are you going Ronan?" he muttered.

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Ronan smiled as he saw his dragon, _Ronan! _The dragon happily said in his mind.

Ronan sat in the crook of his dragon's neck. He had been coming here a lot, he had been teaching the dragon more words.

The dragon had yet to be named, something Ronan wished to do. But he wanted to find a special name for his dragon, they were the second free Rider and dragon to appear, so his dragon should have a name to be remembered by.

Ronan idly scratched the dragon's iron hard white scales, his thoughts elsewhere. Or to be exact, with Galbatorix's soldiers. What was to say they would come back with more? Take over his town as a base for the war. Or worse, find out that there was an untrained dragon rider in their midst.

He was also thinking on what his dragon had said earlier, when he had first seen the soldiers.

_What did you mean by me being safe by half-pointy-ear?_ Ronan asked.

The dragon hummed, _half-pointy-ear is a friend! He is very powerful._ _You know him!_

_Know him? How do I know hi-_ Ronan stopped talking when he heard a throat being cleared behind him. He twisted around and accidently fell of the dragon's neck, he quickly stood and turned around and saw with shock that Rulf was leaning against a tree looking at the white dragon with a grin.

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Ronan grabbed a hammer from his belt. He got in a fighting stance ready to attack Rulf. He greatly respected Rulf but if he were to tell the Empire about him being a Rider he would have to kill him.

Rulf didn't even look alarmed at Ronan wielding the hammer ready to bust his skull. He merely stepped forward and inspected the dragon. To Ronan's surprise the dragon merely rumbled a greeting. As though greeting an old friend.

Ronan charged forward and swung the hammer at Rulf and saw to his shock that Rulf easily dodged him. Ronan stumbled past him. Ronan quickly swung backwards hoping to hit Rulf on the back of his head, with a speed Ronan could not see Rulf grabbed the head of the hammer and yanked it out of Ronan's grip.

"That's not very nice." Rulf commented while twirling the hammer, "_Jierda_." Ronan watched in shock as the hammer shattered.

He paled when he realized what Rulf was, "Y-you're a magician!"

Rulf grinned, "guilty." He said cheerfully.

Ronan glared at the man with a burning anger, "so what you're going to take me to Galbatorix? You knew the stone was an egg!" he accused.

Rulf shrugged, "of course I knew it was an egg… and for taking you to Galbatorix I'm afraid that wont happen."

"W-what?" Ronan asked not believing his ears.

Rulf looked at him with a kind smile, "the kings men aren't the only ones who know magic Ronan. I'm like you."

"What do you mean like me?" Ronan yelled at the man.

Rulf did not answer. He only cocked his head slightly as though he was listening to something, before Ronan could ask he heard it.

_Thud. _The air seemed to vibrate from the strength of the noise.

_Thud. _Ronan's teeth chattered together as the sounds became more and more frequent and a lot closer.

_Thud. _Ronan stuffed his fingers into his ears in hopes of preventing the concussions and spikes of pressure from entering his ears anymore but was unsuccessful.

_Thud._

Ronan gapped as a large sapphire blue dragon appeared out of the sky and landed next to Rulf, besides him his dragon hummed out a greeting.

"I mean that I'm a Rider as well." Rulf said and he held up his right hand and Ronan saw with shock he had the same marking Ronan had. Ronan watched with boggled eyes as Rulf's facial features shifted and morphed. And suddenly Ronan realized with a gulp that he was looking at Eragon Shadeslayer.

**Things are getting pretty interesting? Eragon knows that Ronan's a Rider, and what does he have planned? I was also wondering if that Ronan's and Roran's names were too similar, if its too close I could change it if I was asked enough.**


	9. Bjartkoü

"I, uh, I, uhm." Ronan stuttered out as Rulf or the now known Eragon was watching the very confused boy with amusement.

"You're surprise I'm Eragon Shadeslayer?" he offered.

Ronan nodded franticly.

Eragon smiled, "I had hoped the egg would hatch for you and," he gestured towards the white dragon, "it appeared I was right. Welcome to the Riders, Ronan Avorson."

The white dragon slowly crawled forward and shyly looked at Saphira, Saphira let smoke billow out of her noise in happiness.

_A male Eragon! I'm no longer alone!_ She roared happily in their mental link causing Eragon to wince at the loud noise.

"Woah woah hold up. Hold up!" Ronan raised his hands in a 'time out'. He pointed at Eragon and then Saphira, "y-you guys are Eragon Shadeslayer and Saphira?"

Eragon nodded, "isn't it obvious?"

"B-But I thought you guys were in Surda with the Varden!"

Eragon's features turned dark, "no… we are no longer allied with them. As the soldier had said before we left."

"But why?"

"I'll tell you later. Right now we have to go."

"Go? Go where?"

Eragon sighed, "Ronan it is not safe for you or your dragon. Do you want your village to be razed to the ground? To have your family killed? That happened to me because I thought I could stay hidden, but I was still found. Ronan you've been given a great responsibility, you are now a Rider. I have to train you, you wouldn't even stand a chance against a common foot soldier if your dragon does not help you."

Ronan looked at the ground, "I don't want my loved ones to die because of me… but where will we go? What will happen to me? How can I leave on such short notice? My father will worry and think I ran away."

_Ronan we should go._ His dragon said.

"B-But."

_Ronan we have too._

Ronan sighed, "fine… can I at least leave a message so they won't worry?" he asked as even though he knew that he _had_ to go, he still wanted to explain to his family, even if he couldn't say anything.

Eragon pondered on it before slowly nodded, "you may but you can't tell him about you becoming a rider. Also does he have a name?" he asked gesturing to the young male dragon.

"No he doesn't. I've been meaning to get to it but I don't know any dragon names, I want it to be special. I wanted to ask you but you were already suspicious of me." Ronan admitted.

_Do not worry young one_. Saphira spoke. _It took Eragon awhile to find my name. He kept thinking I was a male._

"Hey!" Eragon said.

Saphira rumbled in laughter, _come young one, I will show you where we are to go._ She flapped her wings before flying away with the white dragon following her.

Eragon clasped a hand on Ronan's shoulder, "come lets write the note and we can leave."

Ronan nodded gloomily, when they reached the house Ronan ran inside and saw with relief his father and brother were not home, they were probably out.

He ran to his room and grabbed everything he could and threw it into his hunting bag along with some sacks. He took one last look at his now bare room before leaving it. He got out a piece of parchment and wrote the letter to his father and brother telling them he was leaving to find his fortune somewhere else, he said they would see him again one day. He apologized for leaving in this manner but it will all be explained one day. He left the kitchen and went into the yard where Eragon was waiting for him, he took one last glance at his home before following Eragon into the darkness of the Spine.

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Ronan whopped as he flew through the clouds, he was riding on Saphira with Eragon as his dragon was not big enough to hold him and there was only one saddle.

"So Ronan you must have a lot of questions." Eragon began.

"Can you teach me to be a magician?" Ronan asked immediately.

Eragon smiled, "I was wondering if you would ask this, yes I will. As a rider you will become a great magician due to your connection with your dragon. I was taught by my master and I will be your master, you are my student now Ronan."

"Yes sir!"

"You may call me Eragon-ebrithil, Ronan-finiarel."

"What are those words?" Ronan asked curiously.

_They are of the Ancient Language Ronan. _Saphira said in both the Rider's minds,_ to use magic you must use the words of this language. A magician is only as strong as the amount of words he knows._

"Saphira is correct Ronan. And to answer your question _ebrithil_ means master or mentor, you can also say _elda_ which means a term of respect. _Finiarel_ is the suffix for a man who has great potential. Which you do." Eragon explained.

The two dragons flew on and on, Eragon explaining about the Ancient Language and its rules.

"Eragon-ebrithil?" Ronan spoke after Eragon had finished talking, "where are we going?"

"A dry place, a place which Galbatorix does not control."

Ronan's eyes widened in realization, "we're going to the desert?"

"Aye… better bring some water Ronan."

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After Ronan found out where he was going he started to ask questions on the ancient language. "What does mountain mean?"

"_Fell."_

"What about water?"

"_Adurna"_

"What about stars?"

"_Evarìnya."_

"What was the spell you used earlier?"

"_Jierda._ It means 'to break'.

"Oh… you owe me a hammer you know that?"

"I think I can find you a hammer. Anything else?"

Ronan glanced around the sky for inspiration, he saw the clouds and thought of his dragons scales. "What does cloud mean?"

"_Koü."_

"Oh cool. Hey if you have a nickname does Saphira have one?"

Eragon chuckled at Ronan's curiosity, "aye she has been called been _Bjartskular_ many times, it means bright scales."

"Ebrithil?"

"Yes my student?"

"Why'd you leave the Varden?" Ronan asked curiously.

A silence crept in. The only sound was the flapping of the two dragon's wings and the steady breathing of the great animals. "We found out that if we had succeeded in killing Galbatorix the leaders of the Varden would have turned on us and banished us from Alagaësia forever." Eragon said quietly but Ronan still heard.

Ronan narrowed his eyes at the Varden's treachery, "do know I hold no ill will to them." Ronan's gaze snapped back to his new master. Eragon continued, "yes I do despise the leaders but I don't hold any ill will to the soldiers. They do not know of that little bit of information, I will not kill them unless necessary. Though I will never join their ranks I will not go out of my way to destroy them unless I have too."

"What about your friends?"

Eragon closed his eyes as he remembered the friends he had made and the adventures they had gone on, "I have a friend named Orik who has probably become the leader of his clan and may be trying to become the king of the dwarves, he was not present during the meeting and I doubt he would have agreed. I was adopted into his clan so I bore them no ill will."

Eragon opened his eyes and gazed at the sky as he thought of the woman he loved. "Arya is an elf and she was not present as well and I have always been in love with her, though I'm beginning to realize she may never return my feelings. I bare none of them ill will and I consider them friends. Are you mad at me Ronan?" Eragon asked.

"Huh?"

"I pretty much took you away from your entire life, you had to leave your home and your family behind at a moments notice, so are you angry at me for that?"

Ronan pondered on it before he sighed, "I'd be lying if I wasn't a little angry but… I always knew that there would be a time when I would have to leave. Course back then I thought I would go to a city like Teirm to learn more of blacksmithing before setting up my own shop," Ronan started to chuckle before it before he started to roar in laughter, "instead I became a Rider like the Riders of old. Now I'm here flying on my master's dragon and my master is teaching me magic and how to fight. Then we are going to fight in the war, ahaha not exactly something I imagined myself for a job."

Eragon laughed, "Aye I thought the same as you when Saphira first hatched for me. Don't worry Ronan you will see your family again, unlike me."

"What do you mean?"

"Another time Ronan."

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Ronan sighed as he gazed idly at the ground. They were currently near the desert. They had been careful to avoid Gil'ead, which held bad memories for Eragon and Saphira and had traveled south-east in order to avoid any unwanted attention. They flew high, Eragon and Saphira were adamant on flying high, they didn't want anyone to know there was another rider, at least not yet.

Ronan could see on the horizon the great Hadarac Desert, he gasped at the seemingly endless dunes of sand. "Amazing isn't it?" Eragon asked as they looked at the great sea of sand.

"I've never seen anything like it..." Ronan whispered as he looked at the dunes.

"Beware for despite its beauty it is still a death trap for those unprepared." Eragon warned his new student. "In the middle of the desert lies the mountains from which the dragons of old had lived back during the war with the elves. We can go there, it is desolate and no one would be there. A perfect place for a new rider and dragon to train, far from the eyes of our enemies."

The two riders and dragons reached the desert, it was even more beautiful closer up than it was farther away, Ronan felt like he was a hawk high in the mountains able to see everything and anyone.

"Does anyone live in the desert?" he asked.

Eragon nodded, "Aye, there are some tribes of humans that roam the desert, each very wealthy. There are also a few Urgal tribes as well. And then there are slavers." Eragon's jaw tightened, "we ran into some when we had gone into the desert for the first time, we had been going to find the Varen and they snuck up on us. They didn't know I was a rider and ran like jackrabbits when Saphira appeared."

"So what exactly am I going to learn?" Ronan asked curiously wondering what the Riders could do.

"A great many of things Ronan, one of the main areas of your training will be learning of the Ancient Language and spells, as well as making sure you have enough energy by the end of your training to be able to fight the best of the king's magicians. You will also learn the arts of war, which will include strategy and planning. But most of all how to wield a blade." Eragon looked at Ronan's still unnamed dragon.

"Saphira will teach you how to fly in most weather conditions and different aerial moves. Along with other things even I do not know and are only shown to dragons."

"_I like it here," _the white dragon said deeply, _"it's so warm here, I can see miles and miles away, I like it."_

Saphira rumbled in laughter, _"I thought the same as you when I first flew these dunes, Youngling."_

A couple of mountain appeared on the horizon, they seemed barren of life and unlike the mountains near Ursür they were not covered with lush pine tree's and made of great blocks of stone and earth but seemed to made entirely of sandstone.

The four landed in a cave on the largest mountain, small skeletons of some ancient dragon's prey were still scattered among the cave. Large scratch marks from when a dragon took off or landed along with old dusty nests were all that remained that proved dragons once lived here. The cave was big enough for even the dragons to move around with ease, Ronan eagerly explored the rest of the cave.

When he returned he went over to Saphira who was basking in the sun. Saphira opened one eye as the young teen came over to her, "_Yes young one?"_ she asked.

"Well uh Saphira-ebrithil." Ronan scratched the back of his head sheepishly, "I was wondering if you could tell me of any male dragon names since your uh, well."

"_A dragon?"_ Saphira provided.

Ronan nodded.

"_Hm very well."_

Saphira started speaking of different male dragons who lived far before anyone in the cave had lived, she spoke of Valinor, Barovar, Esrtil, and countless others. But Ronan never liked any of them as well as his dragon.

"What about Ruvrix? He killed a sea monster?" Ronan asked the white dragon.

"_No."_

Ronan pondered on the words Eragon had told him before, he connected some of the words together until a name that fit his dragon appeared in his mind.

"Are you Bjartkoü?" he asked his dragon.

_Yes. _Bjartkoü hummed happily.

**Ancient Language**

Bjartkoü – Bright Clouds, which represents his white scales.

**Things are starting to fall into place, Ronan is learning from Eragon safe in the desert. For those of you who are wondering if the desert is the place Eragon is planning to have as the official base of the Riders, you are wrong though they may visit the desert a few times after Ronan's training is completed. A lot of you are asking me what's happening with the Varden, I was wondering if you wanted me to do a chapter about them, though I have thought of better ways to reintroduce the Varden which I will probably do. So you guys know the Varden is still in Surda though they have conquered small towns but no cities. They don't have a Rider remember? But trust me, Eragon will meet up with some people he knows very soon. Also if anyone has any spells or things that could be added into Ronan's or Bjartkoü's training that'd be helpful, I think I've covered most of it but I doubt you'd want a long chapter on him just training, things will get interesting pretty soon.**

**Next chapter: Training**


	10. Training

Ronan groaned as he slouched against Bjartkoü's scaly leg. He was exhausted. "I swear Bjartkoü, Eragon-ebrithil isn't a Dragon Rider, he's a demon sent from the pits of hell to make my life full of pain and misery."

Bjartkoü chuckled, _"Eragon-ebrithil is just trying to make you stronger, Ronan. Saphira-ebrithil has taught me many things I would not have thought to do, had we been alone. Be thankful that we have teachers who can help us."_

"Still I swear I think he's been out to get me because of that small incident when I tried using the word _Brisingr. _He didn't have to get so mad at me, not like I hurt anyone." Ronan mumbled out crossly.

"_Didn't you accidently set Eragon-ebrithil on fire?"_

Ronan glared at the white dragon, "it was an accident! He put it out right away."

Bjartkoü roared in laughter, Ronan glared at him, "Shut up!"

"_Ahahahaha, only that can happen to you! I guess that's why Eragon-elda had you go back to the basics of magic. I remember your first day of your magic training, it was hilarious!" _

Ronan grimaced as he remembered that day.

_(Flashback)_

Ronan was grinning ear to ear. He was sitting crossed legged on the peak of the highest mountain that surrounded them in the desert. It had been smoothed over with magic so that people could train there now. The reason for Ronan's excited mood was because this was the day he would properly learn magic.

Eragon appeared from a hole in the ground he had shaped by magic so they could get to the top of the mountain without flying, as Saphira was teaching Bjartkoü everything she knew, from flying to hunting, and of course, how to fight.

Once when Ronan saw the familiar head of his mentor pop out of the ground he immediately jumped to his feet, bouncing on his feet. "What are we going to learn today master?" he asked excitedly.

Eragon smiled, but as he tried to speak Ronan spoke again, "are we going to learn how to create storms? Or making a great wave of fire erupt from our hands? Or how to create lightning? Or-"

"Calm down Ronan." Eragon advised the boy who immediately stopped talking but he still bounced on his feet.

Eragon dramatically reached into his pocket, "today you will finally learn the great art of magic. Magic is the basis of a riders power, with it he can change the elements around him, protect himself from weapons, creating things out of nothing, and much more." He announced dramatically as he removed his hand from his pocket, his hand closed over whatever he held in his hand. "You are going to…." Eragon said dramatically Ronan hanging onto every word, his eyes burning with excitement. Eragon opened his hand to reveal… a pebble. "Lift this pebble!" he announced.

Ronan's excitement stopped immediately, … A pebble?" he asked, no sign of excitement in his dead tone.

Eragon nodded seriously. "But…. It's a pebble." Ronan said with a dead pan.

Eragon smirked deviously, "it may be a pebble but this is the first step of many for learning magic. I had to do this as well, watch." He looked at the small pebble on his palm, "_Stenr rïsa!" _The pebble rose from his hand and it hovered in the air, kept there by magic.

Eragon moved the pebble so it hovered near Ronan's face. He snatched it and gazed at the small pebble, "what are you going to do master?" he asked.

Eragon pondered on that, "I guess I'll just… light something on fire or something." He idly said while Ronan sweat dropped, "but I wanna light stuff on fire!" he whined.

Eragon whacked the boy lightly on the head. "Make the pebble rise and then I'll teach you how to set stuff on fire."

"Fine." Ronan walked away with a sulk before climbing on a small boulder and sat on it. He gazed at the endless desert before him, before glancing at the pebble. He bounced it in his palm before closing his eyes as he searched his mind for where he knew the magic resided within him. He found it after a few moments probing. He opened his eyes as he spoke, _"Stenr Rïsa!"_

The pebble rose an inch above his opened palm, it hovered there for a few moments before wobbling and falling back into his hand. Ronan immediately felt as though he had been running for a long time, he gasped for breath as the energy left him like dew evaporates in the afternoon sun.

"This is going to take awhile." Ronan muttered, "_Stenr Rïsa!"_

The sun had rose to its full height before starting to sink on the horizon, the sand turning a deep gold as the sinking sun slowly became night. The moon slowly rose and the sand seemed to glimmer silver in the moonlight, Ronan ignored this, he just kept rising the pebble over and over. He was exhausted but his determination was still as strong, he could now raise the pebble several inches above his glowing palm and have it hover for a close 30 seconds before his concentration broke and the pebble would fall back into his palm.

He was so engrossed in his task that when a hand was placed on his shoulder he yelled "Gah!" and jumped a foot in the air before falling off the boulder.

"Oww." Ronan mumbled as his face smashed against the hard sandstone, a pair of feet appeared in front of him and he glanced up and saw that a grinning Eragon was above him. Eragon held his hand out and Ronan grasped it and Eragon helped him to his feet.

"You have done good for your first day, but you should rest now." Eragon advised him.

"Does that mean I get to learn how to summon fire now?" Ronan asked with a grin.

"No."

Ronan stopped grinning and sulked while Eragon laughed again, "in time Ronan. Don't push your limits, it'll come to you." Eragon left and headed down to the cave they were living in, Ronan hot on his heels.

_(Flashback End)_

Ronan had come to hate that pebble with a burning passion, for the next week Ronan had worked on raising the pebble and when Eragon-ebrithil had deemed that he had mastered levitating the pebble he was ready for something else. Ronan immediately thought his mentor was going to teach him awesome spells but to his horror he learned that he had to levitate the pebble as high as he could _and_ make it move in circles.

The reason for this, Eragon explained, was to help his concentration along with increasing his energy capacity.

Ronan thought that he did this just to make Ronan's life a living hell, he _hated_ that pebble.

It took longer to master that because Ronan's concentration wasn't as good but with his determination he managed. After he had been told by Eragon that he had mastered that technique he was allowed to go back in the cave, Bjartkoü and Saphira were already in the cave and were eating a couple of goats they had found. Eragon had already made a soup out of it and Ronan eagerly scarfed it down.

As Ronan was eating his food Eragon had been sitting across the fire eating his own soup, all of a sudden Eragon threw something at Ronan who barley managed to catch it. "Up!" Eragon commanded. Ronan glanced at what he had caught and was surprised to see a wooden sword. He noticed Eragon had one as well. "Up!" Eragon commanded again and Ronan scrambled to his feet, Saphira and Bjartkoü moved out of the way.

Ronan and Eragon circled around the fire, neither attacking. _"Uh Bjartkoü you have any tips with sword fighting? Eragon-ebrithil is going to kick my ass!"_

Bjartkoü snorted from where he was laying next to Saphira, _"Obviously not. I'm a dragon, why would I need a sword?"_

Before Ronan could reply Eragon suddenly darted forward and swinging his makeshift sword. Ronan was too slow and yelped as the wood struck him in the ribs. He stumbled backwards and tripped on a small outcrop of the rock. He rolled to the side as Eragon's sword hit the ground where he had been moments before.

Eragon waited until Ronan got back on his feet, "defend yourself Ronan!" he barked.

Ronan charged at the blue rider, he swung his sword to the left but before it got near Eragon he arced it so it went for his right side. Eragon easily blocked it, he shoved the two swords making Ronan stumbled back again.

"Changing at the last second, nice!" Eragon complimented.

Eragon charged forward, he swung at Ronan who barely managed to block it with his sword. His arm ached from the force of the hit.

Eragon twisted his sword. Ronan's sword fell out of his hand and onto the sandstone_. _Before Ronan could do anything Eragon raised his sword with speeds Ronan could not follow. Ronan dimly heard the crack as the sword hit his head, followed with the pain. But it didn't matter he was already unconscious.

Cold water crashed down on him, Ronan woke up with a jolt. As he sat up his head seared in pain. Clutching his head up noticed that blood was in his hands, Ronan blearily looked around and saw Eragon standing above him.

"Hold still." Eragon said as his palm glowed and Eragon placed it on Ronan's head. Ronan let out a sigh as the pain in his head left. After Eragon retracted his hand Ronan glared at the older man. "You didn't have to knock me unconscious!"

"Your enemies won't wait for you to catch your breath Ronan. I was going easy on you, if I had used my full strength I doubt you'd have a head at the moment." Eragon said calmly.

Ronan gulped, he remembered Eragon telling him that the dragons had turned him into a hybrid of a sorts, he had the full strength and speed of an elf, but was still a human. Eragon could have easily killed him had they been real enemies.

Eragon threw another sword to Ronan who groaned, Eragon grinned.

The weeks blurred, Ronan went to bed exhausted every night from the training. He was allowed a day off once a week, though he usually spent that day reading from Eragon-ebrithil's books and scrolls that had been given to Eragon by the elves. But if he didn't feel like reading he and Bjartkoü would go flying.

He loved flying, nothing gave him more excitement than getting in the saddle and whoop as Bjartkoü launched himself off the mountain. The desert seemed endless, and the flight would last for hours, though they did remember of Eragon and Saphira's warnings about staying close to the mountain so that they couldn't get lost and more importantly that no one could see them. Ronan felt like a hawk when he was flying with Bjartkoü, their backs touching the few clouds that survived in the desert. Ronan could see miles and miles of sand; Bjartkoü would often show Ronan what things looked like with his vision in their mental connection. These flights also allowed the two to talk privately.

_We're fortunate Ronan._ Bjartkoü said one day as they flew.

_What do you mean?_

_That we have Saphira-ebrithil and Eragon-ebrithil to teach us and guide us. They didn't have that. We can make a difference Ronan, Saphira told me how no one even knew that I existed. It still confounds her and Eragon on how Galbatorix did not find me like he had found her, Thorn, and the non-hatched egg. Or the fact that Eragon received that vision of where my parents had hidden me from the war._ Bjartkoü explained.

_The world works in strange ways, Bjartkoü. I mean who'd expect me, a son of a blacksmith in a small village that no one knows about, to be chosen by a dragon and become the second free Rider to fight against the king? Not me certainty. _Ronan said. _Why did you choose me? Was it because I was the first living being that held you that were not already a Rider? _Ronan asked because he wanted to know why Bjartkoü had chosen _him_ out of everyone in Alagaësia.

_I chose you because you are kind Ronan. Your heart is full of passion and I could tell even before I hatched that you are the type to save the lives of your loved ones even if it caused your death. You have undying loyalty and you want Galbatorix to be overthrown. Your heart is pure Ronan._ Bjartkoü said.

Ronan gapped at the dragon, surprised that Bjartkoü thought so highly of him. _But I'm not like that. _He said.

Bjartkoü released a small poof of smoke from his nostrils making Ronan gag slightly, _Yes you are Ronan, I would not have chosen you if you weren't._

Ronan smiled, _I'm happy you chose me Bjartkoü._

_I am as well, young one. _Bjartkoü warmly replied.

Ronan smirked slightly, _so how's your crush on Saphira-ebrithil going?_

Bjartkoü jerked at that and fell several feet before flapping his wings again and gained attitude. Ronan laughed, _Man Bjartkoü I don't think you're a white dragon seeing as you could probably pass as a red dragon from your blush._

_I have no idea what you're talking about._ Bjartkoü mumbled out.

Ronan kept on grinning, _come off it, we both know you like her._

_Maybe…_ Bjartkoü sighed, _its not like we can be mates, we're in the middle of a war, and what if she doesn't return my feelings!_ He wailed.

Ronan hugged Bjartkoü's neck, though he was careful to avoid his neck spikes, _hey come on buddy, so what if we're in a war? We're not technically in it yet. Eragon-ebrithil wants our existence or more specifically your existence to stay hidden for as long as possible. We won't go to war until Eragon-ebrithil says our training is complete, or at least complete enough so we can handle our own. _

_That still doesn't answer the question if she likes me back._ Bjartkoü grumbled.

_Hey come on, who wouldn't love you? I've noticed the way she looks at you. I can say its safe to assure she likes you as well. Just give it time, the truth will only be revealed when it wishes too._

Bjartkoü rumbled a deep laugh, _you've become quite the guru haven't you, Ronan?"_

Ronan laughed along with his partner of heart and soul. _Living alone with no one but two dragons and a rider will teach you many things my young grasshopper._ He said in a wise and strict voice, which made the two laugh all over again.

Ronan could sense Bjartkoü was up to something after they finished laughing. _What are you up too?_

Ronan could practically feel the smirk that Bjartkoü no doubt had on his face. _What are you-gah!_ Ronan quickly grabbed the neck spike that was closest to him and held of for dear life as Bjartkoü suddenly plummeted to the ground, before they became pancakes on the dunes Bjartkoü quickly opened his wings and gliding quickly on the breeze he stopped them from diving head first in the dunes. He immediately started to do barrel rolls, Ronan trying with all his might to hang on. After Bjartkoü did a loop de loop he finally slowed down until they were merely following the breeze.

_That was awesome!_ Ronan yelled, _Can we do it again!_

Bjartkoü rumbled in pleasure, _I take it you liked that?_

_Hell yeah! That was awesome!_

_If you like that than your going to love this-_ but before Bjartkoü could do any more flips or barrel rolls, Eragon's voice sounded in their heads, his voice was faint as they were pretty far away. _You guys should come back now. The sun is about to set._

_Roger that chief_. Ronan said with a mock salute.

Bjartkoü changed direction and headed back towards the temporary base of the Riders.

**[][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][]**

Bjartkoü flew into the entrance of the cave, a small cheery fire was the only light source in the cave save the moonlight. Eragon was sitting near the fire, his back against Saphira. Both were looking intently at some sort of scroll, Eragon quickly rolled it up as Ronan approached, but Ronan saw what appeared to be a map of Alagaësia before it disappeared in the magical vortex where Eragon kept two types of things. Things that were too heavy to carry or something he didn't want Ronan to see.

"Ah Ronan, Bjartkoü. I was wondering where you two had been." Eragon commented from besides the fire.

Ronan rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, "sorry Ebrithil. We went flying and lost track of time."

Eragon smiled at the younger Rider, "that is fine Ronan, no doubt it gets dull sitting in this cave twiddling your thumbs as you read scroll after scroll."

Ronan franticly shook his head, "No! All your scrolls are amazing, they speak of such wisdom and guidance. I just love to fly with Bjartkoü, it's amazing."

Eragon laughed, "I was kidding Ronan, but I am happy that you enjoy reading. Its good that you are a better reader than when you first came here, I'm surprised your father had taught you how to read, though to be fair you did not have much practice beforehand."

Ronan nodded, "what was that map Eragon-ebrithil?" he asked curiously wondering if Eragon would tell him.

Eragon paused slightly before simply saying, "That's it, just a map."

Ronan looked like he was about to protest before Eragon cut him off, "I will explain this to you later, you are not far enough in your training for this. But I promise that I will teach you."

Ronan nodded, it was good enough for now. He knew Eragon was only looking out for him, if he wasn't ready than he wasn't ready. Even if he didn't like it.

**[][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][]**

"Defend yourself Ronan!" Eragon yelled. Ronan blocked at thrust, he side-stepped and swung his sword for Eragon's exposed neck.

_Thwack!_ Eragon's sword blocked his blow, not to be deterred Ronan continued his assault on the older teen, his moves were fast, much faster when he had begun learning how to fight with the sword.

Eragon blocked his attacks but was slowly losing ground in the ferocity of Ronan's attacks, Eragon felt a sword nearly hit his rib before he blocked it.

Ronan stumbled back as Eragon thrust his sword at his neck. The wooden blade barely missing him.

Eragon swung his sword at Ronan's head, hoping to knock him out. Ronan was expecting it and quickly dropped to his knees as the wooden sword whistled above his head harmlessly. Ronan kicked at Eragon's legs, Eragon stumbled slightly but remained standing.

Ronan quickly got back up and thrust at Eragon's left shoulder blade.

Eragon's sword met his, Eragon twisted his sword and Ronan's wooden sword was taken out of his hands. Ronan felt the wooden sword's tip at his throat.

"Nice job Ronan." Eragon said as he let the wooden sword fall to his side.

Ronan smiled at the praise, he knew that Eragon was still the better swordsman but Eragon had said that he could easily hold his own against an opponent. It had been around five and a half months since they had arrived in the desert. The two Riders looked different than they had when they had first entered the desert. Ronan being the most changed.

Months of grueling training had shaped the already muscular boy into a young man who had no sign of baby fat. His hair had gotten longer and a few signs of facial hair was appearing on his chin, much to the boy's excitement. He had grown taller by around two inches, he was now 5'11 nearing six feet, something he was happy about. Being in the desert had also given him a much heavier tan, that with the other physical changes he did not look like the simple blacksmith all those months ago.

Eragon had gotten taller as well, the nineteen year old was now around 6'2 and his lean body had gotten more muscle. He was tanner as well, though not as tan as Ronan since his skin had been pale as snow because of turning into a half-elf. Eragon had a goatee though he did keep it short. Both of the Riders were more powerful than when they had first stepped foot in the desert. Ronan learning the ways of the Riders and Eragon teaching him and learning new things as well.

Loud vibrations in the air brought the two Rider's head up as they saw two shapes overhead. Bjartkoü and Saphira landed on the peak of the mountain where the two had been fighting.

Saphira had gotten larger in the past couple months, she was not as large as Gladr but was easily twice the size she had been during the battle of the Burning Plains. Which was around two houses large.

Bjartkoü was the most changed. He was no longer the small hatchling he had been five and a half months ago, he was easily the size of a house, he was roughly around the size Saphira had been before but a little bigger. Aside from the size and scale color there were some key differences between Bjartkoü and Saphira.

Bjartkoü was more stocky than Saphira, he was more broad in the shoulders as well. His muscles were compact and looked powerful, his legs were more bulky. His tail was large and more muscular but still moved with deadly grace. His wings, which were as white as the clouds, as was his namesake, were easily larger than his body. His teeth were easily the size of Ronan's arm and could probably slice a ox in half with ease, his spikes were also larger than Saphira's.

As Bjartkoü moved to Ronan, he could easily compare the size of his golden eyes to a dinner plate.

_Hey Ronan_. Bjartkoü's deep voice spoke in their mind.

Ronan scratched Bjartkoü's chin, making the male dragon hum in pleasure. As he leaned against Bjartkoü's leg he looked at his mentor and leader as he conversed with his own dragon.

"So what did you and Saphira want to talk to us about Master?" Ronan asked curiously.

Eragon look at the Rider before him before speaking, "its time I told you about Eldunarì."

"Eldunarì?" Ronan asked, not knowing the unfamiliar word. He was certain he had not read it in any books, Bjartkoü looked at the elder dragon and Rider with curiosity. "What is an Eldunarì?"

_A dragon's heart of hearts._ Saphira spoke.

_A dragon's heart of hearts, whats that?_ Bjartkoü asked curiously.

"Is it a real heart?" Ronan asked.

Eragon did not respond, he merely went to Saphira's saddlebags and pulled out a large bag. He unzipped the bag.

Ronan watched with curious eyes, _What do you think an Eldunarì is Bjartkoü? _He asked his partner in heart and soul.

_He's talking about us boy._ An ancient deep voice spoke within the young teens mind making the boy jump in the air.

_Oh Yaroc, look at what you did. You scared the poor child._ A soothing gentle voice spoke within Ronan's mind.

_Shush Amara, the boy should learn to expect the unexpected, it'd keep him alive more than rushing into danger like a bumbling idiot._ The deep male's voice spoke again.

_Yaroc, you're such a grouch. _Another deep voice spoke, but it was not at deep nor ancient as the apparent Yaroc, he sounded younger than either of the voices.

_What are you?_ Ronan asked warily, wondering if this was some sort of test conducted by Eragon.

_Oh, you're keeping mind of all options. Good, perhaps you will live and reach your next birthday._ Yaroc spoke again.

_Uhmm… Thanks?_ Ronan said not sure if it was an insult or compliment.

_We're here Ronan._ Amara's soothing voice spoke again. Ronan's gaze turned to the bag, which he now realized was glowing with different colors. He slowly approached the bag, and with a silent questioning to Eragon if he could continue, he peered inside the bag.

Ronan gasped as he saw the Eldunarì. Five in total, each a different brilliant color. One was a rosy red, he didn't know how but he immediately knew that was Amara. He saw a deep green, a royal blue, a majestic purple, and the largest of them all was dark silver. They were also very big, the smallest probably around a foot, while the largest Ronan doubted that he could easily carry, he could tell that they were pretty heavy.

"These are Eldunarì?" Ronan asked in wonder. Realization struck the boy. He turned and gave a look of utter disbelief at Eragon. "Heart of hearts. Real _dragons_ are in there?"

Eragon nodded his head, he then told Ronan everything about an Eldunarì. What they were and how they were made. And what they could do.

Ronan's mind struggled to comprehend everything, too much information coming at once. "So the reason why Galbatorix is so powerful, the reason why he could defeat every Rider and dragon are because of Eldunarì?" Ronan concluded.

He turned towards Bjartkoü, "did you know about this?" he demanded.

Bjartkoü shook his massive head, _I have felt my Eldunarì within me, but I never knew what it was. I asked Saphira-ebrithil once but she did not tell me, she merely told me I had to wait until you were ready to know._

"But why did you have to wait for me to be ready for this news?" Ronan asked his mentors.

"The reason Ronan." Eragon began. "Is because you are still young, you have progressed remarkably in all the fields I have taught you, but you are still new to this. To be frank, it's new to us as well. I did not know what an Eldunarì until I was given these by a friend. It was only then did Saphira tell me what they were."

Ronan curiously looked at the majestic blue dragon before him, "and how did you know what an Eldunarì was?" he asked.

_The masters who taught Eragon and I when we lived amongst the elves. _Saphira said.

"And they were?" Ronan asked because they never told him who their masters were whenever he asked.

_In time Ronan._ Saphira said calmly making the fifteen-near-sixteen year-old pout.

"We are getting off topic." Eragon said. "Ronan the reason I did not tell you this right off the bat is because I wanted to teach you more. The Eldunarì are never told to a brand new rider and their dragon. This has been a rule amongst the Riders for centuries."

"Why?"

"Because a dragon may have removed their Eldunarì to impress their Rider, if that were to happen and someone was to stumble upon one then they would have the power of a dragon at their calling. Not to mention it was an easy way to kill the dragon."

Eragon gestured to the bag of the Eldunarì, "in total we have a total of twelve Eldunarì. If you count Saphira's and Bjartkoü's Eldunarì, though they should not remove it. Another five are in the other bag. The reason I did not show them to you is because they are still healing."

"Healing?" Ronan asked what seemed to be the hundredth question in the past couple hours.

"Every Eldunarì that is in Galbatorix's collection has had their minds broken into and crushed, they were all mentally insane. It was only because of us and the knowledge that there are two free Riders left to fight the King is what helped them recover. Some may never be fully healed and if we do kill the King they will probably ask to be destroyed so they may be with their Rider in the Void." Eragon explained sadly.

Ronan's fists tightened and his knuckles turned white from the pressure, "how can Galbatorix do that!" He exploded, "how can he live with breaking into the minds of dragons just to merely take their energy to commit even more crimes!" he yelled in rage. His hatred of Galbatoirx reaching new heights. Back when he was still a smith he hated the King, like everyone else in the village. He hated the high taxes, how he never sent help to those who were in desperate need of food and warmth during the freezing winters. When he became a Rider he was fearful that Galbatorix would find him and make him serve him. When he was training with Eragon he learned more of Galbatorix's crimes, the horrors he caused. He was responsible for slaughtering his Order and the dragons. Making Bjartkoü and Saphira the last free dragons alive. And he hated that he made Murtagh and Thorn, he did not know much of them besides that they hate Galbatoirx, swear vows in the Ancient Language and bond them to his service with their True Names, he made them commit crimes in his name. But now after learning of Eldunarì, Ronan felt like he was about to explode.

Ronan's anger was washed away as the calming presence of Bjartkoü swept into his mind, _Peace young one. Do not lose yourself in hatred and anger. Calm down_. Bjartkoü calming voice spoke.

Ronan took deep breaths and after the anger was long gone he looked back at Eragon and Saphira.

Eragon's face was sympathetic. "I felt the same as you when I found out."

Ronan nodded, he had to ask one more question. "So if those are five of the Eldunarì, what about the others? Those five seemed to be sane to me at least. Though that Yaroc guy was a jerk."

Eragon laughed, then tension in the large cave gone. "Aye, he may seem like a grouch but he just wants us to be safe. He and his Rider were on the council when Galbatorix asked for another dragon egg. He is the most wisest and powerful of all ten Eldunarì. He is just cautious, we are the last hope for the rebellion Ronan."

Ronan nodded, Eragon had told him that the war was being fought so that the victor would have control of the dragon riders. "But master, we aren't on any of the sides." He pointed out.

Eragon grinned, "I know that Ronan. We're going to make our own side."


	11. The Varden and Surprises

Nasuada, leader of the rebel group known as the Varden, sighed heavily as she idly listened the high ranking generals bicker like children wanting to play with the same toy.

They were currently in her tent, a large table and a dozen chairs being summoned to allow the generals and other high-rank members of the Varden to sit down and discuss what was to be done.

The past six months had taken a great toll of Nasuada, along with other members of the Varden and for good reason too.

Their Rider, their only Rider, defeater of a bloodthirsty Shade and defender of the rebels, had deserted.

Nasuada could only curse herself; she should have made more preparations so no one could listen in to the meeting that decided Eragon's fate, but she had been careless. Eragon had gone off somewhere after defeating the Red Rider, as the men called the newest Dragon Rider, and had assumed he was resting and certainty wouldn't be snooping around her tent in the middle of the night, but he had.

Nasuada had no clue on how Eragon had known a meeting about him was taking place, sure the boy was a curious lad but she never thought of him as sneaking around the camp in the middle of the night to listen to plans he shouldn't have known.

Because of her carelessness the Varden had been weakened horribly. Their Rider, who was the paperboy of the Varden, the symbol of hope, the reason why most of their men were ready to lay down their lives knowing and hoping that the boy had a chance to defeat Galbatorix and to free their land. But because of her actions Eragon had fled, and with good reason.

It had taken all of her power, along with the others, to hold the pieces together as the entire stability of the Varden was ready to shatter, decades of careful work making sure that the Varden's morale would stay infinite along with everyone's loyalty to the cause, it was threatening to crumble down before her.

Eragon was the key. The key to everything, the men were as loyal to him as they were to her, some even more loyal to the Blue Rider than the leader of the Varden. It was with good reason; sure she often joined the battle despite being a woman and had made a name for herself proving she was anything but a weakling.

But she wasn't a Dragon Rider, she wasn't the first person in many centuries to kill a Shade, the first human to do so too, she never killed hundreds of Urgals nor the King's men in a single battle, and she didn't have his magical prowess, even Trianna her most powerful human magicians prowess looked like dying candlelight compared to Eragon's bonfire of magical energy.

She may be the leader and held the men's words of loyalty, but Eragon held the men's hearts. He's the Varden's champion, or was.

She reached into her desk and pulled out a scrap of paper that had been read more times than she could count, just a small piece of old parchment, there wasn't anything special about the paper. It was the message on the paper that meant everything, _I know, good luck fighting the Mad King with no Rider, outnumbered 2- 0. You should have trusted me, believed in me. Now it's too late. Have fun fighting against the Imperials alone. I'm no longer your friend, your protector, your weapon. We are now enemies._

_**Eragon Shadeslayer**_

Such a short message but even despite it only being a couple sentences it nearly destroyed everything she, her father, and the first leader of the Varden had worked for.

Once they realized what would happen they immediately sent scouts and troops after them, she only trusted the ones she knew could keep their mouths shut. But even despite everyone's attempts to keep the whole thing under wraps it slowly traveled through the camp.

Nasuada had come up with a cover story, she had told the men that he had returned to the elves home to continue his training, but seeing as during the battle Eragon had just returned from his training, even the most foolish and blind men could tell that something was amiss.

Nasuada had sent messages to every spy they had, every eyes and ears that heard and saw things that they shouldn't know, for any hint of sign of Eragon Shadeslayer.

But they had found nothing, not the slightest trace of the only free Rider and dragon, Eragon had wisely retreated and hidden himself so well that not even Arya could find him.

Thinking of the female elf just seemed to add on to her headache, Arya had no idea of the meeting; she didn't know why Eragon had left. The two shared a bond; both were hurt souls that had been affected gravely by this awful war and Galbatorix.

Eragon had lost his home and his entire life was ripped from him the second he found Saphira's egg that fateful night in the woods. Ill fortune followed him like the Reaper does a dying man, his uncle murdered and tortured only to finally succumb to his fatal and painful wounds. His village torched to the ground months later, his people killed and forced to leave the only place they had ever known. Brom dying and leaving the Rider to face his destiny alone with no one but Saphira for aid.

Arya was the same, even though the elf never showed it. She lost her companions and her lover at Durza's hands, captured and tortured day by day by a bloodthirsty shade. Driven to the near point of insanity she was saved by Eragon, the entire time, no matter the suffering she took she never revealed her home, the elven capitol, nor any of the smaller cities.

Arya of course knew that something was wrong. She demanded and practically threatened Nasuada to tell her where Eragon was or why he had left.

Nasuada couldn't tell her, to be honest she never wanted to banish Eragon but it was that or follow King Orrin's way, which was to kill him. She liked Eragon, whether for his bravery or his honesty Nasuada could tell that he was a good man.

But even the purest of souls could be tainted, look at Galbatorix. He once was a Rider who other Riders thought to be powerful for someone his age; he never showed signs of the cruelness he showed today. Only when a man's heart has been ripped apart from loss or even seeing something horrific could set them on the winding path of darkness. Especially since they were at war, Eragon has killed men before, hundreds of them, whether with magic, sword or arrows, he has killed. He was tormented by it as well, he couldn't stand to take an innocent life but when he has to he will for his friends, but that torment will still stay the same no matter how it came to be.

Nasuada had seen the eyes of old soldiers who could no longer fight due to their age, men who had killed for many years, from when they were mere boys who could barely swing a sword to old men who could barely move due to their age, they had a haunted look about them, as though seeing the men they had killed surrounding them, as though haunting their killers would avenge their own deaths.

It would be easy for Eragon, who had such an innocent soul even with his ill fortune, to go down the same path Galbatorix had gone down, if Eragon did so and somehow managed to kill Galbatorix he may have decided he should be king, and if he became cruel and heartless than they would have another Galbatorix on their hands, one even more powerful than the King right now.

Banishment seemed like the good idea, Eragon wouldn't have to be killed and peace could finally set in the war-torn continent of Alagaesia.

But Eragon had not seen it as a good idea, and so he fled with everything he owned, even taking the Varden's hope with him, though probably not intentionally seeing as he probably had no idea how much sway he had over the troops.

Recruitment had dropped dramatically when Eragon's disappearance became known to everyone, even the Empire.

Nasuada was certain the only reason why the Red Rider had not come to destroy them with the Imperial army was because he was busy trying to fend off the elves attacking from the north.

The Queen was furious with her, she had obviously did not tell the Elven Queen exactly why Eragon had fled but she was certain the Queen had an inkling that it involved her and the other leaders.

Even Orik, who had become the King of the dwarves was rather wary of them at the moment. Orik and Arya were both trying to find out what really happened, the two seemed to get closer as during the time in Farthendür a group of assassins paid by the Az Sweldn rak Anhûin, a clan that was famous for its hatred of the Riders, to kill her for being close friends of Eragon, the leader of the clan had been promptly banished and was no longer an annoyance, but even despite the danger the assassination had proved an advantage as Orik quickly gained support from it.

With Orik king it made things more easier for the worn out leader of the Varden, despite Orik not fully trusting them because of the disappearance of his clan-brother, money had started to pool into the dwindling funds they so desperately needed to pay and feed the men.

They were currently camped out a dozen leagues or so from Aroughs, the muggy climate and swamps that littered throughout the landscape made it a hindrance for the marching army and its caravan.

Riderless, the Varden's only victories had been small towns that were barely guarded, Aroughs would be the first city to siege, even though it was a small city they would waste no chance at getting rid of their enemies before the marched north, they did not need to be surrounded during a major battle.

And despite Eragon's desertion Nasuada had found an interesting piece of the puzzle that was the Varden and its ways, to be more specific Eragon's cousin, Roran Garrowson.

The man had made quite the name for himself, even being called Roran Stronghammer by his peers due to his amazing skill with his hammer, the man had risen through the ranks quickly, he was a bit of a wild card. He had disobeyed orders from his captain but in good sense seeing if he had followed orders he and his men would have been killed, he led the men while the captain was surrounded by bloodthirsty Imperials and managed to kill over two hundred men by himself. Nasuada had him whipped for disobedience but had made him a captain; he would take up command of a small force during the siege of Aroughs.

But the man had been pestering and pleading with her for a long time, to save his love Katrina from the Ra'zac. Nasuada knew that the man couldn't wait for much longer and decided to allow the warrior to go to Helgrind in a few weeks time, of course he would have Arya go with him.

Fabled warrior aside, not even he, just a normal human, would be able to best all the Ra'zac who had acted as the king's dragon slayers back in the day. Those two combined with Arya's magic should be able to avenge Ronan's village, save his love, and more importantly get rid of a dangerous foe for the Varden and her people.

"I say we the main attack should be at the east gate, it will be less of a hassle to break down due to there not being many guards there!" General Tarvosk barked jerking Nasuada back to the present.

"They would expect that due to the fact we are coming from the east!" General Curoc responded back, "we should attack from the south gate!"

Nasuada rubbed her head tiredly as soon insults were thrown around and decided to intervene before the generals would fight each other and the war meeting would become a full out brawl.

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Bjartkoü's mighty wings beat against the air. On him was Ronan who was shivering despite wearing a thick wool cloak. Ronan's face was red from the numbing cold the chilling winds brought with the power to knock Ronan off of Bjartkoü's back had he not been using the saddle Eragon had made for him.

"Wow…" Ronan said in awe as he slowly approached the great Beor mountains. He had heard tales of the mountains before, both before Eragon had come to his small village, and during his training in the blazing Hadarac Desert.

The word gigantic would be of poor choice, the mountains stretched on and on, until neither he nor Bjartkoü could see where they stretched too. The mountains seemed to cut through the sky, the tips hidden forever in the high clouds. The clouds that Bjartkoü and he usually flew through only reached barely half the height of the mountains themselves. As they flew above the clouds, Ronan felt small and insignificant compared to the monstrous mountains that surrounded him.

As Bjartkoü's claws nipped the clouds below them Ronan felt as though the clouds was a blanket of fresh snow, and the only company the two had were the mountains that touched the heavens.

Even Bjartkoü felt small and insignificant to the mountains surrounding them. Not to mention that flying above the clouds so no one would see them, high up in the Beor mountains it was freezing. Hence the reason for Ronan's discomfort.

"_Ei si fro ein yê."_ Ronan mumbled through chattering teeth.

_It's not that cold, Young One. Eragon-elda instructed that you should visit the Beor mountains and to open your senses to the life around you. You may have done it in the desert but more life exists here than in the desert. _Bjartkoü said.

_Says the gigantic fire breathing dragon, 'course it aint cold for you._ Ronan mumbled crossly.

A small hint of irritation crept into Bjartkoü's tone. _I haven't breathed fire yet Ronan._ He said angrily making Ronan cringe. He knew that Bjartkoü wasn't happy that he had yet to breath fire. Sure he exhaled smoke and a few times a couple ghost flames came, but it was nothing like Saphira's fire. It was a blow to the dragon's pride.

Ronan patted Bjartkoü's neck. _Don't worry buddy. You'll breath fire soon enough. Remember, Saphira-elda only started to breath fire when they were fighting Durza. Maybe something like that will happen to us and it'll kick in._

Bjartkoü snorted. _It could. But I'd rather not be able to breath fire for the first time while I'm trying to save you from a bloodthirsty shade._

Ronan grinned. _What's life without a little entertainment?_

_If you went with that motto, then you won't have a life._ Bjartkoü replied sarcastically.

Ronan laughed. _Well that's true. Besides in the next couple of months life will get a little exciting._

Bjartkoü suddenly started to sink lower, _this is a good spot. Eragon-ebrithil instructed that we find a good place to study that's far away from any dwarf, elf, or human. _

Bjartkoü went in a steep dive, Ronan holding on to a neck spike. As they were fifty feet from become smears on the ground Bjartkoü opened his wings and glided before landing on the ground with a small thud.

Ronan slid off the saddle and groaned as his legs supported his weight. "Gah I was sitting there for so long my legs are asleep."

Bjartkoü nudged the boy with his snout. _You're fine Ronan, come on we should set up camp._

Ronan nodded his head and started to unsaddle Bjartkoü. He placed the saddle on the ground and muttered a spell so the elements wouldn't harm the soft leather. He gathered some firewood and after saying, "_brisingr" _a small cheery white fire crackled to life. He quickly grabbed a large saddlebag and carefully placed it on the ground.

He slowly unzipped the bag to reveal five Eldunarì nestled together. Ronan felt thoughts that were not his own enter his mind; he did nothing to stop them. The largest Eldunarì was a white Eldunarì and was slightly smaller than Yaroc's. A black, green, blue, and a red Eldunarì.

They were the other five Eldunarì the two Riders had, the ones Eragon had given to Ronan saying that it was always good to be prepared incase he got in a fight. Ronan had spent the better part of the flight to the Beor Mountains conversing with each Eldunarì. They had slowly opened up to them, there was no doubt in Ronan's mind that the Eldunarì were still wary of everything after having their minds broken by Galbatorix.

Ronan zipped the bag up after making sure the Eldunarì were alright. Bjartkoü flew away to go hunting.

Ronan went farther into the woods before coming to a large boulder surrounded by plants and trees. He plopped himself on the boulder befor getting into a comfortable position before he calmly closed his eyes and saw.

He didn't physically see mind you, but with his mind and magic he saw the life surrounding him. Small flickering lights against darkness, from the smallest ant to the largest pine, Ronan saw and felt everything.

For several hours Ronan watched a worm dig tunnels through the hard earth. He saw the worm eat small molecules of nutrients that gave the worm energy to continue its life under the earth. He saw a colony of ants work as one to bring down a small spider, he saw them carry the carcass back the their ant hill. He moved to larger animals who's bright energy lights look like a fire compared to the small lights of the insects. He saw a sparrow call for a mate, he saw the sparrow fly through the dense branches of the gigantic pines. Saw the bird peck at the ground and flew away with a worm (not the one he had watched) before landing on a tree and gobbling it down.

For days and days Ronan would sit on the boulder and widen his range and listen to the life around him. He realized why Eragon would want him to do this, along with the reason why he should do it in the forest. Bjartkoü was right about there being more life here than in the middle of the desert.

Ronan had been in the Beor Mountains for several weeks now, he had learned the life style of nearly every animal he could sense. He felt enlightened knowing how different life was for everything but still the same. From humans to foxes to ants they had many similarities. They searched for food, protected their young and elders, defended their leaders or alphas, found mates and had offspring, fought others to expand or defend their borders and for food. Along with other things, Ronan could defiantly say why Eragon had wanted him to do this training.

Of course on some days he did not sit on the boulder, he would often practice his magic, going over his forms with his sword, he would talk with the Eldunarì and learn of lessons they had taught to Riders during their lifetime. He and Bjartkoü often flew together, though if they were low Ronan would have to use an invisibility spell that the Eldunarì would help keep up so no one could see them.

Finally Ronan knew they would soon have to return to the desert. So they packed up and headed back towards the desert.

Ronan was talking with Bjartkoü as the two flew through the mountains back home, he was sending out his consciousness so he could still practice before they got to the barren desert.

Ronan's eyes narrowed as he sensed something wrong in the valley directly below them. _Bjartkoü take us down, I want to see what's happening._ Bjartkoü didn't say anything but started to lose attitude.

_Oh so that's what's happening._ Bjartkoü said. Ronan scowled, _hey I don't have your amazing eyesight, what's happening?_

Bjartkoü showed the boy what he was seeing. A Narga, an incredibly huge boar, was attacking a female Shrrg, a gigantic wolf the size of a horse.

Judging by the blood seeping out of the Shrrg she was losing the battle. Her feet were wobbling but she seemed hell-bent on protecting something from the giant boar.

Ronan's heart broke slightly as he saw the wolf launch herself at the Narga, the boar swept its head upwards and its sharp tusks cut the Shrrg's stomach.

Ronan knew she wouldn't live soon judging by the amount of blood flowing from her wound. Ronan grabbed his bow and aimed, he let it lose by saw with dismay that it bounced off the Narga's thick hide like it was nothing.

Bjartkoü landed and Ronan jumped off, he put in another arrow, _"brisingr!"_ he shouted as the arrow erupted in white fire, he let it loose. The Narga shrieked in agony as the arrow pierced its side, the wound and surrounding skin becoming charred.

"Uh oh." Ronan muttered as the Narga lowered its head and charged at the boy. Bjartkoü's tail whacked the boar in the side making it sail across the clearing, shaking its head and seemingly getting even angrier, it charged at Ronan. Ronan knew that Bjartkoü was too far away to attack the boar with his claws. He notched another arrow. He let it fly loose and it hit the boar in the head, but to his dismay the boar kept charging. Ronan braced himself for impact.

Through the mental link Ronan felt Bjartkoü's fear and anger, Bjartkoü's mouth opened and he roared as loud as he could, white hot flames coming out of his mouth.

A shriek cut of short, Ronan opened his eyes to see the charred body of the gigantic boar at his feet. Ronan grinned as Bjartkoü closed his jaw and the flames ceased. Ronan ran towards the white dragon and jumped as high as he could and hugged Bjartkoü's snout. "You breathed fire!" he yelled.

Bjartkoü rumbled in happiness, proud of his accomplishment. The two heard a whining, they turned to see the female Shrrg on the ground. Ronan rushed towards the dying wolf and saw that he could not save her. A minute passed and the wolf's eyes closed. Ronan heard soft squeaks and shuffles, he peered through the underbrush and saw a makeshift den.

It was very large so Ronan had no trouble going in, he stopped in shock at what he saw. There were six Shrrg pups. Despite being what appeared a day old and their eyes were still closed they were still roughly around the size of a normal half grown wolf.

_So that's why she was fighting, she was protecting her newborn pups._ Bjartkoü said.

_What should we do?_ Ronan asked.

Ronan noticed that one of the pups were starting to move, Ronan held his breath as the puppy opened its eyes for the first time. Amber meet hazel and Ronan could tell from its affectionate thoughts the wolf didn't deem him a threat.

The other five pups, as though the first had issued some sort of signal, started to stir. They all looked at Ronan, hazel meeting blue, green, and brown.

The amber-eyed one gave a wolf grin and leapt at the boy, who was too surprised to move. Suddenly Ronan felt himself under six puppy Shrrg. They weren't attacking him, they seemed to be playing with him and were nuzzling him.

Ronan managed to get them off of his, then as one they all opened their mouths and whined and gave Ronan the worlds greatest puppy dog eyes known to any being.

Ronan could hear Bjartkoü laughing both in his mind and reality, _what's so funny?_

Bjartkoü merely kept laughing, _hehe, sorry its just that you were the first thing they have seen in their short lives._

_So what does that have to do with anything?_ Ronan demanded the still laughing dragon.

_For many animals the first living being they see they instantly forge a bond with. Now it's usually the mother they first see so that makes you…_

Ronan's mouth dropped open, he ripped his eyes off from the pups and instead concentrated on the conversation. _Are you saying that these pups think of me as… You know?_ Ronan asked in horror.

Bjartkoü laughed again. _Congratulations Ronan, you are now a mother._

**Hey guys I decided to update this story even though I updated a couple days ago, since I haven't been giving this story as much attention as my other two I haven't updated it as much and I'm sorry for that. Please note that I will begin to update this more as more things become revealed, some things will defiantly surprise you and I'm pretty certain I'm the only one on Fanfiction who has thought of some of the ideas in my story, I probably made you mad because you want to find out about some of the things that happen, you will in the next chapter. Also I made some changes in the story, I decided I would not have the elves betray Eragon because it seems pretty stupid for them to betray them when they pretty much worship the Riders, they don't know about the meeting as I said in the earlier part of the chapter.**


	12. The Wandering Tribes

Eragon was looking at his pupil with a single raised eyebrow, Ronan grinned sheepishly as one of the Shrrg puppies he was holding in his arms started to bite at his ear.

Eragon turned around to Bjartkoü who had the rest of the five puppies on his back. His eyebrow was still raised as he saw the puppies playing on the massive dragon's back.

Saphira snorted in laughter as she saw the misery on her fellow dragons face. One of the puppies, a midnight black wolf, was chewing on one of Bjartkoü's neck spikes. A brindle colored wolf had jumped off the white dragon's back and was stalking slowly towards Bjartkoü's waving tail. The puppy leapt in the air and chomped down on the dragon's tail making him growl at the puppy.

The other two puppies saw their pack mate in trouble and jumped off the dragon's back before coming up to Bjartkoü's face growling. A brave feat seeing as Bjartkoü's claw was probably as big as them.

"So you're telling me," Eragon finally spoke, "that since you were the first being they had seen so they," he gestured towards the puppies," think of you as their mother?"

"Uhmm yeah I guess." Ronan said as the puppy he was holding, a dark grey and silver pup, whined at Ronan who sighed. "Okay." He set the pup down and reached into his backpack and pulled out a small piece of the Narga he had slain. He chewed it up until it was tender enough for the puppy to eat so it wouldn't choke and gave it to the silver pup who eagerly gobbled it down.

The other five puppies seeing their pack mate eating food immediately rushed away from the relieved Bjartkoü and sat down around Ronan and opened their mouths and doing the puppy dog look.

Ronan sighed and gave them all meat, now that they were full the puppies yawned before falling asleep at Ronan's feet.

Eragon chuckled before glancing at Saphira, "and you said I always found trouble."

Saphira snorted, _well at least you never adopted five pups that would become the size of a horse._

"Also some good came out of the trip," Ronan offered, "I did it master, I felt the life around me, I understood it. It was amazing, we're so different but still so much alike, and of course," he gestured to Bjartkoü who raised his head proudly to the sky and large white flames erupted from his maw.

Eragon was grinning ear to ear, while Saphira walked up to the massive white dragon and nuzzled him affectionately for his accomplishment.

Ronan sniggered at Bjartkoü's expression and his wild thoughts that flashed through his head, "can we keep them?" he asked Eragon, "you did say we needed people to our cause." He stated as he remembered when Eragon had said the two were going to make their own side of the war.

_Flashback_

"_Our own side?" Ronan questioned his friend and mentor, "how are we to do that? I mean sure we're Dragon Riders but there are only two of us, unless you count the Eldunarì but they can't fight."_

_Eragon nodded his head at his words, "I know that, so we must find allies, men who will fight with us. We can defeat small towns on our own but we need help for large cities to help us conquer and help keep it under our rule."_

_Ronan smirked as he understood, "we're going to make an army?"_

_Eragon smirked as well, "correct my student. But we have to keep your identity a secret as you well know-"_

"_But I can help!" Ronan angrily said, "yeah so I'm new to this but I can still help you-"_

"_I wasn't finished Ronan, you are still going to help, just not as a Rider."_

_Ronan looked at him curiously, "I am going to travel through the Empire to gain something that will help us enormously," he brought out a large scroll of paper from the void where he kept his stuff, Ronan saw that it was the map of Alagaesia he had seen earlier but there were highlighted areas both in major cities and small towns, he immediately noticed the word on each highlight, Eldunarì._

"_Those are the king's Eldunari that he gave to his servants," Ronan understood, "we're going to steal them?"_

"_I am," seeing Ronan about to protest Eragon continued on, "you may help me later on but until then you shall train, but while I free the Eldunarì you will work on another project, you're going to find us spies."_

"_Spies? But I don't know the first thing there is to that!"_

"_Just go to the black market, every city has one. Maybe do an odd favor and get in with some of the powerful people there, they can help us out and maybe get us supplies for our army." Eragon advised._

_Ronan nodded his head in understanding as Eragon went on, "but we will not do this for awhile for two reasons. One, we still need a base for us, this desert won't due for an army and we are bound to be found out soon. I already know where we shall have our base so that is our top priority, the next is getting the gold to pay the men."_

_Ronan's eyes widened, "and you thinking what I'm thinking?" he gestured towards the desert and Eragon nodded._

"_The Wandering Tribes are very well known as being great craftsmen, you could even compare them to the dwarves, they are also very wealthy, some of them are allied with the Varden," Ronan scowled at the name, "but there has been tension between the two, so lets take that into our advantage. You work in some of the cities, I trust you'll stay out of trouble, or at least not enough to alert Galbatorix. I on the hand, will find the tribes and ask for their support. They hate the king as much as anybody, they would defiantly want us as their allies."_

_Ronan suddenly realized something and sighed, "we have so much work to do, don't we?"_

_Eragon laughed before nodding making the younger teen look at the floor dejectedly. _

_Flashback End_

"Think about it, how awesome would it be if we had a whole pack of Shrrg fighting with us? I know they would make even the most bloodthirsty imperial wet their pants and beg for mercy!"

Eragon chuckled, "fine but you're going to have to take care of them, I'll be gone for a few days, try to not destroy the mountain when I'm gone. Or set anyone on fire."

"I told you that was an accident!"

"Still, I'd rather not be set on fire again, not the best of memories."

Ronan mumbled, "stupid ebrithil."

"What was that?"

"Nothing!"

Eragon rolled his eyes before saddling Saphira, he turned towards Bjartkoü, "you're in charge Bjartkoü, make sure Ronan doesn't do anything stupid."

_I'll try,_ Bjartkoü replied with humor.

Ronan pointed at the gigantic dragon accusingly, "hey you're supposed to be on my side!"

Saphira took off and after circling the mountains headed towards wherever they could find one of the tribes. Ronan still yelling at Bjartkoü for not taking his side.

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"You sense anything Saphira?" Eragon asked his companion as they flew high in the sky.

_Only the desert creatures, are you sure they are around here? You're not the best with directions._

"Jeez what is this, scold a Rider day?" Eragon mumbled crossly.

_Everyday is scold a Rider day for you, Young One._

"True."Eragon admitted as he spread his conscious further and further, _wait, I sense something. I sense a camp, over there by the horizon. _

Saphira quickly turned direction and headed towards the source of life, they soon saw a small yet thriving camp, _and it must be one of the larger Tribes._

The Wandering Tribe of Atrahasha was a prominent tribe of the Hadarac desert. They were one of the larger tribes, with easily over two hundred people.

They were all dark skinned thanks to years under the glaring sun, but despite living in what many considered a wasteland they were a proud and rich people. Gold was everywhere in this desert, of course if you know where to look, and living in the desert for the entire lives, not to mention their ancestors knowledge, they knew how to live in the harsh desert.

Of course no one knew what to do when a _dragon_ suddenly appeared above them, the men went for their weapons while the children screamed as their mothers or sisters grabbed them and ran to the tents. Even though they knew a thin fabric tent would do nothing against a dragon it would help quiet the children, and hopefully the dragon would not notice them.

The men got into their armor and grabbed their spears and swords, they were surprised when a man got off the dragon, they immediately realized that he was a Rider.

Now even though the Atrahasha had not been one of the few tribes to give support to the Varden they were not aligned to the Empire either, because of this they did not know as much as other Tribes. But even they knew who rode on a blue dragon. Eragon Shadeslayer.

Eragon held up his hands showing that he had no weapons and was not here for a fight, the group of warriors parted as a single man strode forward.

It was obvious he was the leader. His armor was adorned with gold trimming while the main part shinning steel. His chest plate was encrusted with diamonds, rubies, emeralds, and countless other precious gems. His sword was steel whilst the hilt was gold, probably solid gold two, on the hilt of the sword was a diamond probably the size of a walnut. His neck was completely covered in gold rings, and on his head was a gigantic crown encrusted with every known gem. Eragon wondered how the man managed to keep his head up, the crown looked heavy.

"Greetings Rider," the leader said in the common tongue as he doubted the Rider in front of him spoke the language the Tribes used.

"_Greetings,"_ Eragon said, surprising everyone since he was speaking in their native language.

"_You speak our tongue?"_ the leader asked intrigued.

Eragon nodded, _"I find it important to speak the languages of all tongues, easier to speak with a stranger if you can speak their language."_

The man nodded warily, _"why are you here Rider, we've heard rumors you had deserted so why are you here?"_

"_I came looking for aid,"_ Eragon said seriously, seeing the confused faces he spoke, _"perhaps we should talk in private? I have a proposition for you and your people."_

The leader hesitated slightly but decided that if the man wanted to he and his dragon could easily destroy him and his people, he decided not to anger the teen in front of him, _"very well, follow me."_

Once they were in the leader's tent the man sat down in his ornate chair and leaned his arms on his desk, both pieces were actually quite light seeing as they had to move around so much. Eragon took the seat in front of the desk, the was a shuffling of the tarp before Saphira's eyes and snout appeared in the entrance.

"_As you may know, my name is Eragon Shadeslayer."_ Eragon formally introduced himself.

The leader nodded his head, "_Quator_," he said as he held out his hand, which Eragon shook firmly. Eragon took note that while Quator seemed to live in luxury he had a strong grip and callouses, signs of a warrior and hard worker.

"_Why are you here, and for aid none the less?"_

"_As you know I've deserted the Varden because of some…. Circumstances. The reason for which I will tell you at a later time, but I have a proposition Quator, Leader of the Atrahasha._" Eragon smiled at the man who looked interested, which was a good sign. _"I won't delay the answer, I'm just going to cut to the chase. I am going to build an army and I need some supporters."_

Quator's eyes widened but otherwise remained impassive, _"go on."_

"_I understand you hold no allegiance to the Empire nor the Varden."_

"_And for good reason too!"_ Quator said, _"while we are not cowards we are not bloodthirsty fools who would dash off to fight, we'd be destroyed and our ancient Tribe no more. We prefer to remain on neither side."_

Eragon nodded his head, _"I respect your concern for your people and I knew that was one of the reasons you have not chosen a side."_

Quator looked at the young Rider in front of him, _"then why have you come to my camp? If you know I was going to refuse you?"_

"_Oh I don't think you will refuse me."_

Quator's eyes flashed dangerously,_ "are you threatening me!"_

"_No,"_ Eragon said calmly, _"I am no enemy, I am merely a friend looking for help. What I meant was because of what I have to offer. I understand that your tribe is the greatest maker of necklaces, correct?"_

Quator smiled at the praise, _"of course we are! You will never find a more beautiful jewelry if it was not made by our Tribe!"_

"_Yes you are a rich people, but you could do so much better,"_ Eragon saw that he held the man's interest, _"but since you have not chosen a side you cannot sell your products in either Surda or the Empire, they see you as an enemy or a threat and would not buy your products, you are stuck here in the desert with only other Tribes to buy your jewelry."_

"_That may be true but I will not endanger the lives of my men just to gain a little more gold, I am not a greedy man."_

"_I never said that, I was merely pointing out that you are confined in this desert, while it is your homeland I'm sure many of your people wish to see what lies outside of these dunes, what types of people and places there are to see, can't you see? Galbatorix merely sees you as stragglers, that you are nothing but dirt underneath his feet. He has made your image of great crafters and rich men and twisted it into wandering nomads without a penny to their name, second class, pests."_ Eragon looked at the man with honesty, _"if you do not believe me I will tell you this, I was born and raised in the Empire, I will not lie. And I had never known until I had fled the Empire that you were actually a proud people with wealth rivaling kings."_

Quator's bodyguards were trembling in rage at how they were imaged in the Empire because of the King, this wasn't about negotiations anymore. It was a matter of pride.

The leader's face was flushed red under his dark skin, _"while that is indeed some news there is still the matter of what we get for aiding you, if we fully show our alliance to you than we will not be welcomed in either Empire or Surda."_ He pointed out.

"_That is true,"_ Eragon said,_"but the Varden doesn't have a Dragon Rider do they?"_

"_No."_

"_Think about it, you've heard of my feats of strength during battle, imagine what any rival Tribes will think, do you think they would dare provoke, much less attack you, if you had the aid of a Rider and dragon with them? I have no men yet, but I think many people, both of the Varden and the Empire, would come under my command."_

Quator was silent as he pondered his options, both the cons and pros of being allies of the one (to them and pretty much the entire world) free dragon Rider.

"_What will it be?"_ Eragon asked as he held out his hand as he stood up from his seat, _"will you stay here, trapped, waiting for Galbatorix to crush you, or will you join me and show the Mad King just what the desert tribes are made of?"_

Quator stood up, and with a grin he shook the Rider's hand, _"we will fight!"_ he exclaimed as he looked at Eragon and Saphira with a light gleaming in his eye, _"and we will win!"_

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Ronan looked at the map of Alagaesia set before him with a frown on his face, he looked closer at a certain area before scowling and looking at another area of the map.

The cave trembled slightly as Bjartkoü landed and entered the gigantic cave, _what are you doing?_ He asked his rider.

"I'm trying to think of where to go to gain favor," Ronan explained before throwing his hands up in defeat, "I give up! It's either too small of a city that there are no notable contacts or too big and I'd get caught!"

_Perhaps you are over thinking it,_ Bjartkoü added in helpfully, _I agree that some major cities are dangerous, I'd rather chop off my wings before allowing you to sneak into Urû'baen. But remember in a big city faces clash together, it's easy to forget a face when there are thousands of them. perhaps Teirm? It is one of the world's greatest trading cities, many strangers come and go. You'd blend right in, and there are many contacts to form in a place like Teirm._

Ronan nodded his head, he smiled as he rolled up the map, "alright, to Teirm it is!" he yelled.

Ronan immediately went to random places of the cave as he prepared for his travel. He grabbed one of the large knapsacks, enchanted so more larger things could fit, and started to fill it with clothes, food, the occasional knife or dagger.

Ronan sighed as he held a dagger eye level, "I need a weapon," he concluded, "a _Rider's_ weapon, not this butter knife." He shrugged "I'll ask Master Eragon latter, maybe he knows more about them. His sword is defiantly not made of normal metal, that's for sure." He grabbed one of the spare swords that was littered on the ground before putting it on his belt sheath.

He grabbed Bjartkoü's saddle and in the range of a couple minutes Bjartkoü was ready to fly. Ronan quickly climbed on before holding onto one of his massive neck spikes, "let's fly!"

Bjartkoü snorted and rolled his large eyes at his Rider, _aren't you forgetting something?_

"Ehh?" Ronan then remembered and quickly grabbed a quill and a scrap of paper.

_Master Eragon,_

_Uh so me and Bjartkoü are going to Teirm and get some contacts, so don't freak when you see I'm not here. Though then again by the time you get back I'll be halfway through the Empire, don't worry I know to stay above the clouds, guard my mind, blah blah yada yada. _

A whine echoed through the cave and he saw the Shrrg pups looking at him confused.

_Also, can you keep an eye on the pups? Can't really take them with me, its not that hard. Just give them some meat and be careful they don't rip your arm off while doing it, and if they gotta go and can't get outside then just clean it up, so yeah._

_Ronan, Rider of the awesome Bjartkoü of the white flames, conqueror of all that is evil, the defender of the world._

Bjartkoü snorted, _honestly…_ he muttered.

Ronan got back on the saddle, "alright, now lets fly!"

The dragon roared to the sky as he jumped off the high cliff, Ronan whopping as they headed towards the city of Teirm.

**So another chapter done and I have a couple questions that I want to ask you guys that I've been thinking on and decided or still haven't so I decided to turn to you guys to help me decide. I was thinking of maybe doing a chapter on the siege of Argoughs, note neither Ronan nor Eragon will be in it. But Roran will be in it, he will be the POV, or would you rather just skip that? Also pairing has been decided, it is Eragon/Arya. I think some people were thinking that it may have been Orik/Arya, but no I meant they got closer as friends.**


	13. It Begins

The sun was starting to rise, spreading a warm glow onto the land beneath it. With the light allowing a person to see, a sight was sawn that few men wished to view. The light glinted eerily off the weapons and armor of the Varden army.

Swords were held at the ready, spears ready to pierce or be thrown, and arrows were knocked into place. Before them stood a city, while smaller than Feinster it was still a city, with grand walls and towering towers. A gigantic wooden gate plated with iron was the objective for the invaders.

Break it down and take over the city. It was easier said than done. Fighting had not broken out yet but the Varden were not foolish to think for even a moment that there weren't protective spells or wards placed onto the gigantic gate.

Roran Stronghammer, cousin to the famed Eragon Shadeslayer and son to Garrow Cadocson, was with his squad. Thirty men large, their armor was not shining steel, instead it was black. Not even the sun was able to make the armor glint. They were the stealth ops if you wanted to put a label on it.

They would hang back while the Varden's battlements hammered down the wall, no one doubted that the walls would not fall in a day, so when night came they sneak across the battle field. Jeod had discovered a small sewer passage in the small river that entered the city, it was bolted shut of course.

Luckily for the Varden, Aroughs did not expect them to know of the small passage much less use it. A man could barely fit in the narrow passage, for them to even think of using it never crossed their minds.

They say ignorance is the downfall of man, and in this scenario they were right.

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The _Creaky Kettle_ tavern was in the more shady parts of Teirm. Laborers spent their measly wages on the cheap mead and slightly spoiled food, and trying to catch the attention of any bar maid foolish enough to come near them.

The common fashion for most of the occupants in the dingy tavern was to wear cloaks that hid their appearance, their faces covered in shadows.

Ronan fit quite well in, with his pitch black robe and his hood covering his face, he had also added a small spell to make sure it never fell back unless he wanted it too, and there was always a shadow covering his features. Obviously if a skilled enough magician were to come and actually tried to find the spell they probably could, but Ronan was confident that a magician of that zeal would spend their times at a more lavish tavern, rather than this run-down building.

The reason for coming to this building was because of its more dirty dealings. This was the usual hideout for the cities most notable criminals, thieves, spies, killers, and practically any other notable crime lord.

It was also a recruitment ground, any person wanting to find a little gold and perhaps, if they were lucky, some helpful contacts. Ronan had found out quickly, with the help of breaking into a couple peoples' minds, that one of the most powerful crime lords, whose field of work was spying, had a secret hideout underground. The only problem, Roran had no clue of where the hideout was.

Sure he could use his magical skills to find it, but Teirm was huge. He didn't doubt for a minute that if he actually tried that the cities magicians and the guards would be on him in a second. He knew that if that happened then Bjartkoü would appear to rip them to shreds, but even if they managed to kill the magicians and guards, a whole city had suddenly seen a gigantic white dragon bigger than a two story house and a Rider, and then the Ra'zac and Murtagh and Thorn and maybe even Galbatorix would be here in a heartbeat.

So yeah no magic, at least not the big stuff.

Ronan would have to do things the old fashioned way, gain the man's trust until he could actually see the big man in person. Ronan remembered an old Rider saying.

_Those who are patient are rewarded while those who move without thinking lose their lives._ Patience it is then.

Ronan saw the man he was looking for, he wore a dark crimson robe and hood; he saw the symbol of some sort of eye on his sleeve. The symbol of the guild he was looking for.

Ronan paid for his drink before going to the man's table and sitting down across from him. The man inspected him while he drank his mead. "The shadows are your friend, eh?" he asked with a chortle as he tried, and failed, to see through the dark shadows on Ronan's face.

"It helps that no one can pin things to me if they can't even see my face," Ronan replied back.

"Ehehe you speak the truth my mysterious friend, now tell me," he leaned forward and Ronan saw through the man's cowl unnaturally bright blue eyes piercing at him, "why are you here?"

Ronan leaned forward as well, "I hear that your boss has some of the greatest spies across the entire land of Alagaesia, both in the Varden and in the Empire…. It's obvious, I want information."

The man was silent before he started to laugh hysterically. The other occupants turned a curious eye to the laughing man and the impassive Ronan.

The man wiped away a couple tears that had no doubt sprung from his eyes, "oho I must give you a drink. I don't think I have heard such a good joke for quite awhile."

Ronan said nothing. He merely stared at the man. He slowly channeled magic to his cowl and the man with bright blue eyes suddenly saw hazel eyes appear in the dark shadow.

The man's amusement was wiped away, "hmmm…. So you're a magician." It wasn't a question, more of a statement.

"I guess you could call me that." Well he was technically a Rider, but he didn't have to know that.

The man fished out a gold coin to pay for his drink, he fiddled with the piece of gold as he pondered his next words, "how good of a magician are you?"

Ronan stared at the gold coin, and he whispered so softly the man did not hear, "brisin ginka." The man watched with curiosity as the coin suddenly caught fire, he casually placed it on the table and watched it burn. When Ronan cancelled the spell there was a small burnt hole in the table but the coin was gone.

"You owe me a coin," the man merely said.

Ronan fished out a coin before giving it to the man, "I understand if you do not trust me, in fact I wouldn't have asked for your service if you had trusted me so easily… so here is my offer." Ronan said, "I work under my mentor, and he and I need information on both the armies. I offer you my services if it means that you and your boss will slowly begin to trust me."

"Who is your mentor?"

"I'm afraid I can not tell you, but I'm sure that if I did tell you, you wouldn't believe me. He is quite famous."

The man seemed to ponder on this before he reached out to Ronan, "welcome, we could use someone like you…. What's your name? Don't ask mine cause I won't give it to you, just call me Surt."

Ronan shook his hand, "call me Freohr."

Ronan could tell the man was smirking, "Shadow, eh? Yeah you'll fit in nicely."

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Eragon sighed as he meditated inside the cave, he was channeling his surplus energy into _Undbitr_, the medium size gem in the pommel thrummed with the energy he had placed within it. The other Eldunarì were channeling their energy in Beloth the Wise.

Saphira was waiting outside of the cave with her saddle strapped to her back, Eragon knew that the Shrrg pups could look after themselves, they had gotten much bigger in the past couple weeks. They weren't full-grown but he didn't think any predator would go after them, they could hunt in the desert and he had created a large pool of water for them.

Eragon grabbed the necessities he would need for the trip before saddling Saphira. Without a word spoken between them Saphira launched herself off the cliff and with a couple furious and mighty beat of her gigantic wings she headed south-west.

The desert was an endless blur of gold as Saphira used all of her strength to carry them faster, they were high enough that if any person that happened to be in the area, unlikely but they didn't want to make the mistake of assuming it, they would mistake Saphira as a hawk or some other large bird of prey.

Soon enough after a day a flying they saw the edge of Tüdosten Lake, a lake that nearly rivaled Leona Lake. Eragon and Saphira could feel the many life signatures in the city Furnost, to their right was a large forest. Saphira quickly dived and was soon submerged in the forest, no one would see them.

"It's been so long since I've seen a tree, I guess living in the desert does that to you," Eragon said with smile.

Saphira rolled her giant eyes, _I still think we should wait before we do this._

"I know Saphira, but we need to gain more power, we can't hide forever, one day we'll be found and we have to be ready to face it. Time will only be on our side for so long." He replied to the blue dragoness.

_I still hate having to hide while you go off on another dangerous adventure where I usually have to snatch you from the air._

Eragon chuckled, "I do seem to attract attention to myself, hey at least I know how to protect myself." Eragon grabbed his dusty brown cloak, it wouldn't make sense to wear pure black in a desert, he put the hood up as he headed towards Furnost, where his target was.

Furnost wasn't exactly large. It was stuck between being a town or city, but it was a major southern trading port. With the north being the entire desert and the south being the country of Surda, many travelers and traders came from all over. From different tribes of the Hadarac Desert to wealthy traders in Surda, they all flocked to this desert town.

Tüdosten Lake was also the closest source of a water anywhere, the large lake was easily around the size of Leona Lake, not to mention that it was the only large body of water in the southern parts of Alagaesia, save the ocean.

Parched traders were able to drink fresh water after a couple weeks journey, for a price of course.

But Eragon wasn't interested in the water or the various wares that littered the cramped streets, stalls overflowing with exotic objects and valuables. No he was more interested in a certain man who had come here, a spy for Galbatorix, a spy who had the aid of Eldunarì.

This was why Eragon was here, not only would he get rid of the magician but he also gained and freed the Eldunarì, he had no clue on to how much the man had, but with his five Eldunarì, Saphira, and himself he was confident he would win whatever battle may come.

After searching for the any sign of a magical signature that was much larger compared to a normal humans, thanks to the Eldunarì, Eragon finally felt the signature.

He quickly walked towards the area he knew the man was; he soon found himself in the entrance of a seedy looking tavern. He pushed the old door open, the old creaky door promptly fell off it hinges, making everyone in the tavern look at the stranger as they heard the crash.

Eragon ignored them and instead went to the bar. He looked at his target. The man was heavily tanned, had dark midnight black hair, his beady eyes were slightly red, and his face was flushed from all the alcohol he had obviously been drinking heavily.

The drunken man was laughing at some sort of joke he was telling the bar maid, but judging from her expression she didn't find it funny. The man looked at Eragon, noticing him looking at him, "an' what do you wan'?" he slurred out?

Eragon responded by attacking his mind, the man fell off the chair at the unexpected attack, surprisingly despite his drunken state, his mind shields were like an iron wall, though Eragon was sure that was because of the Eldunarì.

Eragon suddenly felt the Eldunarì's presence as they were forced to break into his mind, thankfully Eragon's Eldunarì and Saphira were able to stop them. Eragon continued to break into the man's mind, finally with a large amount of energy the target's iron wall of a shield shattered into a million pieces.

Eragon was suddenly pulled into the man's memories.

_A large fort standing on a dark and grim looking mountain…. A man dressed in armor with the King's insignia on his right shoulder barking commands to the soldiers…. The man giving the target a large sack…. The target opening the sack to see six glowing Eldunarì nestled together…. A new location somewhere by the sea, a large library with many secrets…._

Eragon gasped as he was brought back to the present, he glanced around to see all the onlookers staring at him and the unconscious man passed out on the floor, then as one they looked away. They didn't see anything. And for that Eragon was thankful that they wouldn't say anything.

Eragon dragged the man out of the bar and into a dark ally, he muttered a long spell under his breath, and the pocket that held the six Eldunarì appeared, the pocket having had a spell that could fit large objects.

The Rider then levitated each Eldunarì into a large sack; he'd rather not have six Eldunarì screaming in his head at the moment, with a spell the sack disappeared in a pocket dimension.

He looked at the passed out man before leaving, he didn't want to kill the man in cold blood, he wasn't cruel. Though he did wonder that he should, whoever that commander was would probably not be happy that the target had just lost the six Eldunarì.

A small smile formed on his face, things were starting to change, to go in their favor. Granted they weren't ready to fight the King, but they were ready to take out all the others, the supporters, anyone who helped.

Slowly they would rise, and one day they would fight the King, whether they won or lost, the fate of Alagaesia depended on what they did now and the choices they made. The return of the Riders had begun.

**Ancient Language**

Brisin Ginka – gold burn

Freohr – Shadow

**I'm really sorry I haven't updated in awhile, my computer broke and I couldn't write, not to mention I got distracted by Skyrim. We've all been distracted by that.**


	14. Ra'zac and Rider

_I think I've gone insane,_ Ronan thought, if one were to look at his predicament they would whole-heartily agree with the burly teenager.

Ronan was swaying precariously on a rooftop, the wind threatening to blow him off. The reason why he was on a rooftop in the middle of the night was simple, Surt had decided to see how good Ronan was by sending him on a job.

Ronan was a Rider, he was a skilled magician despite just having been thrown into the world of the Riders, he was a skilled blacksmith, he was a competent swordsman, he was not however a thief. Nor was he stealthy at all.

_Well I guess there is a first time for everything,_ Ronan thought humorously, he was wearing his dark robes and hood, making him blend into the dark background.

He was currently looking down on a lavish manor, the owners were apparently the very snobbish and obnoxious type, the two heads of the family had come before the crew that Ronan had suddenly found himself in, they had asked the leader to get rid of some competition, which they did and the people instantly became rich.

The little snag in that deal was that the second the two were swimming in money they decided to not give the gang their cut, and had tried to get them arrested for good measure. So now it was time for some payback, and Ronan now found himself about to break into a manor.

The item Ronan was supposed to steal was the two backstabbers most prized possession, an ornate and priceless gem that was said to have been owned by King Palancar himself, according to the two it had been on his crown, so obviously the guild wanted that gem, not only to rub it in their faces but also get a pretty penny, and Ronan would gain the trust of the guild.

"Freohr," Ronan muttered under his breath, immediately he seemed to disappear, but it wasn't an invisibility spell. Ronan had instead focused the outline of his body to blend into the shadows, making him almost like a living and moving shadow.

The reason this was possible was because Ronan focused on the light that was surrounding him, he made the molecules surrounding him reflect away from him, when he blurred his outline it helped make it easier, with the light reflecting away from him no one could see him due to the fact no light was actually touching him.

This spell did have some major comeback, for one it could only be used in the dead of night, you can't use it in the day, and Ronan couldn't move to fast or a wary guard may see a flash of Ronan and come investigate.

Ronan managed to get past any guards who looked like they would rather be in their beds, he muttered a small spell that levitated him up to a window. He quickly channeled some magic into the lock and heard it click.

Ronan slowly opened the window.

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Eragon stood on a small hill looking at a very familiar structure. He was looking at the towering mountain known as Helgrind, meaning 'The Gates of Death' in the ancient language.

Inside were the most malevolent and feared creatures to walk in the shadowed parts of Alagäesia, the ones who had attacked his farm and brutally tortured his uncle. The Ra'zac. No one truly understood their malevolent nature, to think one would understand them was a fools wish. The Ra'zac were an unknown entity, even with Eragon gaining all the knowledge the Old Riders had found about the creatures, it was still a pitiful amount. The Riders weren't even sure what lands the Ra'zac had originated, they had assumed that they had come from the unknown continent where the humans had fled, followed by the Urgals. The Ra'zac preyed on the humans, their breath able to easily paralyze a full grown man with just a small whiff of their rancid breath. Thankfully their breath would have no effect on Eragon, thanks to his transformation during the Blood Oath Celebration.

The Ra'zac's appearance only added on to the mystery of the narrow-minded beasts. From a distance they appeared rather human, their humanoid shape allowing them to move without too much attention. But if one were to get closer that was the only thing about the Ra'zac that appeared normal. They wore long and ragged black cloaks, hiding their faces from any mortal foolish to get close enough to them. Underneath their hoods instead of a mouth was a beak that wouldn't look out of place on a insect or beetle, their beaks able to pierce through flesh and metal alike with relevant ease.

They wore no armor underneath their robes, and they didn't need too. For instead of soft and vulnerable flesh, there was only a hard like ebony exoskeleton capable of blocking the heaviest of blows with ease. Though this exoskeleton did have a weakness, due to the weight of the exoskeleton, while not too heavy to weigh down a Ra'zac, it wouldn't do well in water. The Ra'zac would no doubt sink like a stone by their own insect like flesh. Unfortunately but not surprisingly for Eragon, that weakness would do no help here, the Ra'zac knew of this weakness and made sure to stay away from any type of deep water, no doubt one of the reasons they chose Helgrind as their base of operations was because it was high up in the air, and far away from water. The closest water source was Lake Leona to the West, but it was far enough that Eragon couldn't use it to his advantage.

Their appearance wasn't the only thing that helped bring fear to their enemies, they had acted as Galbatorix's personal dragon slayers, when any rumor of a Rider reached the capitol and Galbatorix he would send out his deadly servants to find this rumor, see if it was true, kill anyone who made up the rumor if it was false, all the while leaving a trail of death and bloodshed. It had been the Ra'zac who had discovered Eragon's new identity as the first Dragon Rider to emerge for nearly one hundred years. So much would have changed had not Sloan, the butcher and Katarina's father, betrayed his village and Eragon by telling the Ra'zac about Saphira's egg. They may not of discovered who the so called Rider was, they may have never gone to the farm, they may have never killed Garrow.

With their superior abilities compared to humans, the Ra'zac were as fast, nimble, and strong and could easily rival any elf. But their greatest strength were their mental shields. No one, not even elves, could detect their thoughts or signature, unless of course the Ra'zac allowed them too. This was one of the major reasons why they were the greatest assassins and Rider killers, they wouldn't have been detected until it was too late. Though thankfully the Ra'zac were not capable of using any type of magic, Eragon shuddered at the thought of the ghoulish monster having access to such power, even alone without magic they were one of the deadliest creatures on the map.

Luckily for the Rider, only two Ra'zac existed along with their parents, who acted as their mounts, the Lethrblaka. The word meant 'Leather Flapper', in the Ancient Language. And like their offspring they were intimidating and looked as though they had sprung from a nightmare.

Unlike their younger children, the parents resembled nothing like any creature in Alagäesia. The only creature that faintly resembled them were the dragons, a more twisted evil version of a dragon. Their scaly hides were a disgusting watery brown, like trampled mud, and their black insect like eyes bulged out of their reptilian heads, the beasts had no eyelids so they couldn't blink. Unlike the dragons the Lethrblaka had no jaws filled with razor sharp teeth, instead they shared the same beak as their offspring, though much bigger and even deadlier looking. They were around seven feet in length, their veiny wings resembling that of a bat.

Like the Ra'zac the Lethrblaka could not use magic, but with their ability to fly as well as their immense strength helped them overcome that weakness.

The reason Eragon and Saphira had chosen now to kill these monsters was simple, they couldn't afford to wait any more, the two knew that sooner or later King Galbatorix would send out the Ra'zac like hounds, searching every single location in Alagäesia, from the most populated city to the most remote location, looking for them. Eragon and Saphira no longer wished to be hunted by these creatures, the days spent hiding and fleeing from their enemies were behind them now. Now was the time to show the world that they had not seen the last of Eragon Shadeslayer and Saphira Bjartskular. They were coming back into the deadly and bloodthirsty fray, they were ready to fight to bring back peace to a war-torn land. They weren't foolish enough to fight Galbatorix, his infamous army, or even their fellow Rider and dragon, Murtagh and Thorn. They knew not to bit off more than they could chew.

Even though they had to destroy Galbatorix they wouldn't confront him yet, instead they would chip away at the base of the foundation Galbatorix had created. Slowly but surely the base would crack and crumble, and the entire towering building would come crumbling down.

And now the day of vengeance had finally come, Eragon and Saphira had planned it out perfectly.

The two waited until dawn to begin their move on Helgrind, the pale light allowing Eragon and Saphira's enhanced eyesight to see their path clearly, while any normal human would have trouble seeing them due to the darkness. But Eragon and Saphira weren't fighting humans.

Soon enough they reached the valley where Helgrind and its residents resided. Eragon and Saphira had stayed a couple miles away from the demonic rock formation just in case the Ra'zac had decided to go out and caught a stray thought that had escaped their shielded minds.

Eragon had donned his chain-link corset, as he put on the armor he couldn't help but wonder what Orik, his clan brother, was doing. He terribly missed the dwarf but he didn't know how he could communicate with him without any consequence. Underneath the chained links was his leather-backed shirt, so the metal would rub off against his skin as well as providing another layer of armor. Eragon had also attached his bracers on his forearms before putting on his greaves. He placed his padded arming cap, a mail coif, and a plain steel helmet. He had lost the helm Orik had given to him when he had been accepted into the clan of Durgrimst Ingeitum during the Battle of the Burning Plains as well as his shield. On his hands went mailed gauntlets.

Eragon had left the bow Queen Islanzadí had given to him before he had left Du Weldenvarden, as well as the quiver filled with twenty heavy oak arrows fletched with gray goose feathers, seeing as he didn't see the need for the long-range projectiles, as no doubt this death match would be inside caves.

Saphira was wearing some of the dragon armor that had been given to her before the battle of Farthern Dûr, though she was not wearing all of it, merely the armor plating that protected her broad chest, back, and neck. On top of her head was a plating of metal. The rest of the armor was back in the Hadarac Desert, either because some parts were still unusable due to any damage it had collected during the Battle of the Burning Plains, or because Saphira and Eragon didn't want to be weighed down. The second they had killed off their enemies they would have to leave immediately, no sense sticking around in the heart of the Empire.

On the horizon Eragon could see the vague and blurry outline of Dres Leona, the tallest building was one Eragon recognized. The cathedral where he had been attacked by the Ra'zac when he had visited the city with Brom. In a moments notice he had gone from the predator to prey, it was even more ironic that it was the Ra'zac he was hunting, and he had suddenly found himself being hunted by them.

Eragon knew that somewhere below them was the campsite he and Brom had set up before being ambushed by the Ra'zac, they had been captured easily and for an hour or so their hopes were crushed as they had no idea of how they would escape, if not for Murtagh's timely appearance than no doubt Eragon would be as trapped as Murtagh was now, a slave of Galbatorix. Who knows what would of happened had not the man arrived to save him, the Varden may have been crushed, the Dwarven cities discovered and pillaged, Du Weldenvarden burning, mass panic.

Eragon knew he had to return the favor, he wanted to save his brother from the cruel fate of being under Galbatorix's thumb. He couldn't help but wonder what it was like, to become enslaved by your own self, by your True Name.

Saphira quickly dived until they landed at the base of Helgrind. Like its name it looked like something you would see in Hell, the entire structure an inky black. No life was on the jagged mountain or even around it, it was as though the very air around it was filled with death, allowing no life to come near this demonic rock.

Eragon glanced around, he saw no entrance, no small hole, no hidden caves, nothing. _"You think Galbatorix has put any spells on this place?"_ he asked Saphira.

"_There is no doubt that Galbatorix knows of that the Ra'zac's greatest weakness besides water is magic, he would obviously put spells here to protect them, we just have to find out where."_ Saphira said as she suddenly shifted as some of the rocks underneath her broke due to her weight, the clip of her long blue wings headed for a certain jutted piece of the obsidian black rock. Her wing went through the rock as though there was nothing there.

"_Saphira, did you see that?"_

"_I saw it."_

Slowly she pushed her snout against the rock, like her wing it phased through the rock as though it was nothing more that mist, soon enough Eragon could only see the weird image of a headless Saphira. _"It's an illusion!"_ Saphira declared as she suddenly surged forward and Eragon saw the rock coming at him, he didn't flinch as he suddenly hit the rock and phased through it like nothing was there.

The opening of the cave was an irregular oval, perhaps fifty feet high and sixty feet wide. From there the chamber expanded to twice that size before ending a good bowshot away in a pile of thick stone slaps that leaned against each other in a confusion of uncertain angles. A mat of scratches defaced the stone floor, no doubt cause by the sharp claws of the Lethrbraka as they took off and landed. Eragon was glad they had brought the armor. Five tunnels in total pierced the sides of the cave, they were low but Eragon was certain he could fit in it, though Saphira wouldn't be able too. Eragon tried to see through the tunnels, maybe hoping to see something or someone, but all he could see was the looming darkness.

Eragon held _Undbitr _at the ready as he dismounted Saphira. His and Saphira's breathing the only sounds in the cave. Eragon was unnerved by the sheer quietness of the area, not just the physical but also mental. He couldn't sense any stray thoughts of their foes, not even a small bug or mouse, it was as though the entire thing was dead. Eragon stayed calm, the comforting presence of both Saphira and the Eldunarí steeling his resolve.

Then there was a sound so faint Eragon didn't know if was real or his mind was playing tricks on him, then the sound grew louder and stronger, the sound of a multitude of clicks echoing through a certain tunnel. Eragon and Saphira faced the tunnel, ready.

A huge, twisted shape launched out of the tunnel. Black empty eyes bulging out of deformed and hideous head. Black wings flapping like a bat. The torso was a disgusting brown, hairless, and covered with webs of veins and muscle.

Saphira quickly used her tail as a weapon and tried to slam it into the Lethrblaka, but with surprising speed and fury the Lethrblaka evaded the deadly tail and crashed into the blue dragoness with the fury of an avalanche.

Eragon quickly dodged a flaying wing that would have knocked him all the way across the cave, driven by pure instinct Eragon rushed towards the two gigantic beasts, his concern for Saphira burning within him.

"_Saphira, move!"_ Eragon shouted in his mind as he raised his palm towards the Lethrblaka, Saphira knowing what he was going to do gave the beast a quick head butt, making the beast stagger backwards. "Brisingr!" Eragon yelled as a bolt of blue fire shot out of his lite Gedwëy Ignasia. The ball of pure flame crashed into the Lethrblaka's side. The beast gave out a pained screech that made Eragon's sensitive ears ring. A long and slightly burned scar was on the monster's side, despite the damage the Lethrblaka just seemed to be in an ever greater rage and leapt at Eragon, but before the thing could get near him Saphira tackled the winged beast.

And then as fast as a the eye could blink, the second and last Lethrblaka emerged from another tunnel, seeing it's mate in danger it screeched and launched itself into the deadly fray.

Eragon had to move quickly as he struggled to not get trampled by the three beasts fighting.

The hair on the back of Eragon's neck rose, his sixth sense screaming at him that he was in danger. Eragon quickly turned around, just in time to see the two remaining Ra'zac walk out of one of the tunnels. They seemed to hobble instead of walk, reminding Eragon of an insect. But he knew that despite the way they walk they were still dangerous in terms of speed. Eragon also noticed that even in the gloomy caves of Helgrind the Ra'zac still wore their long black cloaks.

Despite knowing beforehand, it was still eerie that Eragon could not sense their minds, nor the minds of their transformed parents.

_Undbitr_ held at the ready, Eragon stared at his two foes that had taken everything from him, the ones who had made him flee from the only place he knew which was his home. The Ra'zac stared back, their bulging eyes hidden underneath their cowl.

"Brisingir flauga fram!" Eragon shouted as another ball of dark blue flame sprang from his hand and raced towards the two Ra'zac with impressive speed and precision.

With a couple clicks of what sounded like alarm the Ra'zac quickly jumped out of the way of the spell, the fire hit the rock, which instantly melted due to the sheer heat of the fire.

Eragon ran up to the shorter one, the one that had killed Brom. With a roar of vengeance he attacked the shorter Ra'zac with everything he had. Using all of his super enhanced strength and speed to try and get through the Ra'zac's guard. But the Ra'zac wasn't waiting around to get stabbed in the gut, with also impressive speed and strength the shorter of the two dodged Eragon's sword strikes and fought back with its own blackened blade that seemed to blend in the dark cave.

Saphira roared in pain as one of the Lethrblaka raked Saphira's side with its sharp and deadly claws. Eragon winced as Saphira's pain entered his consciousness and through their unbreakable bond.

With a snarl Eragon shouted out, "Fü!" A small ripple erupted from Eragon's body and slammed into the smaller Ra'zac, who was thrown across the entire cave and hit a wall with a sickening crack. Knowing he only had a couple of precious seconds to help the other half of his heart and soul, Eragon quickly yelled out a spell and directed it to the Lethrblaka that had dared harm his greatest friend and companion.

"Garjzla, letta!"

Immediately the Lethrblaka pupils dilated and turned from a dark black to a murky grey as the light entering the Lethrblaka's cornea stopped immediately, effectively blinding the winged demon who screeched loudly as it fumbled through the cave.

Eragon quickly blocked a sword aiming to cleave his head off his shoulders, the taller Ra'zac had decided to enter the fray. With a series of quick and deep clicks the Ra'zac quickly aimed his sword for Eragon's side, but was blocked by _Undbitr._

With a quick twirl, Eragon disarmed the taller Ra'zac. He slammed the butt of the pommel against the Ra'zac's head. Causing a sickening _crack_ as the enchanted metal crashed into the exoskeleton. Eragon quickly tried to cleave the Ra'zac's monstrous head off its shoulders, but the Ra'zac managed to dodge him.

Eragon decided that since the Ra'zac had the strength of numbers, he would need to use one of his greatest strengths and their greatest weakness, magic.

"Naina!"

Immediately there was a flash of light as suddenly the area of the cave Eragon and the two Ra'zac were fighting was lighted up by magic. The Ra'zac screeched in pain and fear as the once dark cave was now light up by bright lights. They stumbled away as they tried to cover their sensitive eyes, their cowls not helping them at all.

Saphira suddenly roared in triumph as she raked her deadly claws into the chest of the blinded Lethrblaka, a sickening metallic greenish blue blood splattered to the grimy ground as the Lethrablaka gave one last painful and hateful shriek before falling to the ground with a low _thud._ The remaining Lethrblaka screeched in pain and loss as it saw it's mate die before its very eyes. The two Ra'zac screeched as well as they saw one of its parents on the floor bleeding deeply, it's murky grey eyes staring blankly at the ceiling.

The lone Lethrblaka rammed into Saphira's scaly side with pure fury in its eyes, with the strength and power of one submerged in dark hatred it attacked Saphira with a score of deadly strikes. Had not Saphira been so protected by Eragon's protective wards as well as her iron hard scales, Saphira may not have managed to survive from the onslaught.

The shorter Ra'zac had gotten used to the bright light, the taller one was still trying to get used to it and was thus unable to helps its hatch mate. With a series of loud and angry clicks it raced towards Eragon, it's black sword poised ready to stab Eragon in the heart.

Eragon quickly dodged the barrage of deadly strikes, he swung his sword upwards and the tip of _Undbitr_ got caught at the tip of the smaller Ra'zac's hood. It fell backwards onto the back. Eragon stumbled back in shock and fear as he saw for the first time the full appearance of a Ra'zac.

It was as though a nightmare had taken a physical form of its own. Black as coal and the most darkest onyx, its skin was jagged and riddled with little niches in its hardened flesh. The flesh itself was glinting in the light, making it almost appeared as though it was some sort of well polish stone or some oily substance. The flesh itself was like the Riders reports had said, an exoskeleton no doubt strengthened by Chitin. The rigid exoskeleton wrapped around the Ra'zac's head but slowly stopped around where the Ra'zac's forehead was located. Pale blackish grey skin was the flesh on its face. The grey flesh was pocketed with small holes, as though insects had made little burrows in the Ra'zac's face. The thing looked as though it was diseased and rotten. It's pupil-less eyes stared at him, it didn't have any eyelids so it's two coal black eyes just gazed at him with fury. And the most alarming feature was the mouth. Instead of a mouth like a humans, there was merely a thick and long beak that protruded out of the Ra'zacs face. The beak looked as though it would belong on some carnivorous insect, it seemed to glint eerily in the light.

With a short amount of clicks from the beak, the Ra'zac lunged its head forward and tried to take a chunk out of Eragon's shoulder. Eragon quickly dodged the bite and kicked the shorter Ra'zac in the chest, making it stumble backwards due to the force of the blow. Eragon quickly used that to his advantage.

_Shink_

The shorter Ra'zac stared down, almost dumbly, as the sword of Brom embedded itself into it's protected and armored chest. The light seemed to reflect off the polished metal eerily. It glanced up at the victorious Eragon with a dumbfounded and surprised expression on its monstrous face. Purplish metallic blood dripped onto the stone floor, seeing as everyone in the large cave had enhanced hearing they could hear every single _drip, drip, drip._

With a cry Eragon tore _Undbitr _out of the Ra'zac's chest and as the Ra'zac fell to its knees he jabbed the sword directly into the Ra'zac's head with a sickening and wet _shink._

Eragon quickly retracted_ Undbitr_ and the dead Ra'zac crashed to the stone floor. A small pool of purple blood soon formed. The Ra'zac's black eyes were dimmed now more of a murky mix of grey and black.

The taller Ra'zac shrieked again in pain and loss, the shriek was so loud that Eragon had to fight the instinct to cover his ears, before Eragon could do anything the last Ra'zac turned around and fled into the tunnels. With a curse Eragon was ready to following him, except that he decided it would be best to wait for Saphira, who had flown out of the cave in the pursuit of the last Lethrblaka.

Loud vibrations echoed throughout the cavern and soon enough the massive body of Saphira flew back into the cave covered in the Lethrblaka's blood as well, to Eragon's horror, some of her own. With impressive speed Eragon raced to his friend and immediately started to look for any life threatening wounds, whenever he found a wound he would quickly heal her, thanks to the Eldunarí he could heal all of her wounds without fear of being too tired to fight the remaining Ra'zac that was no doubt lurking around somewhere.

Once Eragon knew that Saphira was in no danger of bleeding out, any wounds that could maim her, or anything that could get infected, he finally stopped pouring his magical energy into her wounds to seal them up. Saphira nudged him with her snout, her bright blue eyes staring at him looking for any wounds that had been caused by the Ra'zac that had managed to get through both Eragon's protective wards and his own guard. Once she saw that aside from a couple cuts and bruises and being slightly out of breath, she knew that Eragon was fine if not a bit weary.

Saphira turned her massive head to the dead Ra'zac. _So you've managed to kill one of them._ She said through their mental connection.

_Aye, and what of the Lethrblaka?_ Eragon asked his companion as he tried to calm his beating heart that was still pulsing with adrenaline from the death match between the Ra'zac and himself.

_Currently floating belly-up on Lake Leona, I'm surprised you asked. No beast can beat a dragon when they are in the sky,_ Saphira said smugly before turning serious, _I'm afraid a couple of fishermen may have seen our battle, not exactly something that can be hidden well, no doubt they've headed back to the city and warn the officials, we must hurry Little One._

_Once we've killed the final Ra'zac… and if my suspicions were correct._

Saphira turned her head sharply at him, knowing exactly what he was talking about. _Are you sure that Katrina and her father are here in Helgrind?_

_I'm more sure than anything, despite the fact I never had a chance to properly talk to Roran due to the fact we were in the middle of a battle, I managed to catch some of his stray thoughts when we were talking mentally. The Ra'zac kidnapped Katrina and Sloan, no doubt they would keep them close by. They would be great for a hostage situation, well Katrina at least._ Eragon said as the thought of Sloan's betrayal to the people of Carvahall left a bitter taste in his mouth.

_What are you going to do with the betrayer?_ Saphira asked her Rider curiously.

_I-I don't know._ Eragon admitted. _I know that Sloan betrayed the villagers as well as myself, but he did it out of his love for Katrina. I don't know if I should respect the strength of his love to his daughter or be angered on how blinded he was by it. If he hadn't made a deal with the Ra'zac to protect Katrina they may not have been taken to this place, who knows how the situation at Carvahall would have ended?_

_I'm afraid we will never know Little One, the past had passed by us. No need for us to think of 'what if' and instead focus on the present and the future._

_Aye, you're right Saphira, as always._ Eragon said with a small shake of his head but couldn't help but smile slightly as Saphira hummed in agreement.

_Will you free the two from their cells, or will you try and kill the last of the human eaters? We can't sense the Ra'zac, it could hide in this cave until the end of time and we would be none the wiser on its location. _Saphira said.

_I will search for the remaining Ra'zac. No doubt its blood boils of the thought of us, we have killed the rest of its family and species in the course of a couple hours. If I were to challenge it alone I don't doubt that he will show himself. You should explore one of the tunnels you can fight in, perhaps you can find anything that we can use._

Saphira nodded her head, though she didn't seem to be happy at the thought of her reckless Rider challenging the last Ra'zac without her to protect him. She finally left to explore after threating Eragon that if he got hurt than she would use the strongest magic possible to glue Eragon to her back, so that no one would dare try to harm him without being shredded and burned to a nice crisp.

Eragon headed down the tunnel the last Ra'zac had fled in, the darkness seemed to be trying to suffocate him. He dared not use any spells that brought forth any light. With him being in a narrow tunnel it would be hard to dodge any arrows seeing as the Ra'zac would know where he was instantly even if he was half a mile away. Hopefully the remaining Ra'zac didn't have a bow that could fire a projectile that far.

He wasn't exactly happy that he was heading down a tunnel where the Ra'zac, a creature that excelled in its tasks in the dark, had fled down after Eragon had killed its hatch mate. His breath was long and barely making any sound as he was wary of missing any slight sound. He knew that the probability of the last Ra'zac using a ranged weapon was very high. Which was why he always internally flinched every time he stepped forward, the loose gravel underneath his feet seemed to squeal as they grinded against one another.

For what seemed like an eternity, though Eragon knew that only ten minutes or so had passed, Eragon could faintly see through the dark that the winding tunnel was opening up to another cavern, it was times like this he was extremely grateful to the dead dragons that had transformed him into something greater than his previous and crippled form.

Then he heard cloth flutter against each other, he heard a faint yet pronounced _twang_, and he heard something coming towards him at a fast pace. Eragon threw himself to the ground as the deadly arrow struck the wall, causing a spark or two to form from the contact.

"Kveykva!" Eragon shouted.

Red light, bright as the sun at midday, flared into existence. Unlike Nainia, this light had no source whereas Nainia's source came from a large light high above the one who cast the spell. Since it had no source, it thus illuminated every surface evenly and without a hint of shadows. The fact of no shadows made that ragged rock appear rather flat. The sudden blaze dazzled Eragon, but it had much more of an effect of the Ra'zac in front of him. The creature dropped its bow and quickly tried to cover its deformed face with its cowl, all the while giving a high and shrill scream.

With a battle cry on Eragon's lips he charged forward towards the still dazed Ra'zac. The Ra'zac seemed to sense the danger it was no doubt in and tried to stumble back but Eragon's elven speed allowed him to get closer to the robed figure.

"This is for Garrow!" Eragon cried as he disarmed the sword the Ra'zac had unsheathed in hopes of wounding Eragon, the sword fell to the rocky ground with a sharp _clang._ Eragon gave a quick yet powerful punch to the Ra'zac's face, he felt his hand crack the ebony exoskeleton. "For Brom!" he stabbed _Undbitr_ into the Ra'zac's gut, the Ra'zac chirped in pain. "For Carvahall!" he cried as he pulled of the sword from the Ra'zac's gut and hit the Ra'zac in the temple with the pommel of _Undbitr_ making the head crack even more, bits of the exoskeleton falling from the hooded face_._ "For the Riders!" Eragon screamed as he stabbed _Undbitr_ into the Ra'zac's chest, exactly where a human heart would have been beating.

The Ra'zac crumbled to the floor, Eragon fell down as well and only sheer instinct allowed his hands to stop his fall. Eragon felt faint all of a sudden as he struggled for breath. He could hear the rattled and faint breath of the Ra'zac, now on death's doorstep.

"You have defeated usss," The Ra'zac rasped out as it struggled for breath, Eragon slowly stood back up and stared at his defeated foe with an unreadable expression.

"It was high time your race meet its fate," Eragon responded honestly.

The clatter of clicks and clacks almost sounded amused, "perhapssss. You have become stronger Shadeslayer. No longer the foolissssh boy who dared to hunt usss with no strength or power."

"It was become strong or die. I have a destiny on this land," Eragon told its defeated foe, "I will be the one who brings peace and stability to this war torn land, or to die trying."

"Will you make a pact with me, Shadeslayer?" The Ra'zac asked its defeater, Eragon could see its bulging black eyes staring at him with a burning fire in its slowly dimming eyes.

"What kind of pact?" Eragon asked the last Ra'zac warily.

"I am the lassst of my race, Shadeslayer." The Ra'zac almost sounded mournful. "We are an ancient race, we have been here since the very beginning, even though we no longer will be here at the end. I will not have our glorioussss race be forgotten, a myth told to little children to not play in the dark, merely a fairytale…. Thisss will not do. Would you, in your songsss and in your historiesss, remind your foolissssh fellow humans of the terror we inspired in your kind… Remember us as _fear_!"

"Why should I do this for you, we aren't exactly the best of friends. I can easily ignore your last words and leave you here to rot, your race will be forgotten, perhaps it best if my race does forget about you and the fear you have placed into the humans," Eragon countered.

Tucking its beak against its barrel-shaped chest, the Ra'zac seemed to talk to itself. The random clicks and chitters the only sound in the cavern. "Because," it said as it seemed to make up it's mind, " I will tell you sssomething secret, yesss I will."

"Tell me then, what secret is so great you will only tell me, your enemy, at your final moments and last attempts to leave an imprint on this land?" Eragon asked curiously, wondering if this information would help him and his cause to defeat Galbatorix.

"Give me your word, firssst."

"No, tell me and then I will decide whether or not to agree to your terms."

A minute passed by slowly, the only sounds were the rattled breathing of the Ra'zac. After another series of sharp clicks the Ra'zac said. "He had almossst found the _name_."

"Who has? Galbatorix?"

"Yessss."

"The name to what? A spell?" Eragon asked before his blood turned cold, "are you talking about _my_ True Name? Has he discovered it like he had done with Murtagh and Thorn's True Names?" Eragon's heartbeat was going a mile an hour, he was thinking back to his training with Oromis and how the crippled Rider told Eragon of how Galbatorix had a very unique talent of discovering someone's True Name. If Galbatorix discovered his True Name, his dreams and ambitions would end, his feats all for naught. Not only was he in danger but so was his student Ronan, Galbatorix would discover his younger student and Bjartkoü. He would have three Riders under his rule, and soon enough more Riders and dragons if Bjartkoü were to mate with Saphira, which would result in the first dragon eggs to be brought into this world after a hundred years or so.

"No…"

Eragon immediately sighed in weary relief, he started to thank all the gods, both known and unknown, as he knew he still had a chance.

"If it is not my True Name, then what it is the name of?" He asked the Ra'zac.

The Ra'zac hissed in frustration. "I cannot tell you! The _name!_ The True _Name."_

"You have to give me more information than that!" Eragon protested.

"I cannot!"

Eragon sighed as he knew the matter was closed, what made it even more annoying was the fact he couldn't just enter the weakened Ra'zac's mind and learn the information himself.

"Very well, since you have given me this information, albeit it is very vague, I will honor the pact between us, Rider and Ra'zac." Eragon finally said as he looked down on the Ra'zac.

For one wild second Eragon thought he saw gratitude flash in the Ra'zac's dark eyes. But it left so suddenly he didn't know if he had imagined it or not.

"Thank you."

With one last rattled breath the Ra'zac stopped moving, its big black eyes dimming to a murky grey as it stared towards the ceiling. The last of the nightmarish Ra'zac was dead.

The Ra'zac were dead!

Finally the monsters who had ruined his life had been brought to justice. The beings that had killed and tortured his uncle and latter returning to Carvahall to kill its residents and burning the village to the ground were now cold and lifeless. The creatures that had killed Eragon's fellow Riders as well as their dragons had been avenged. The Ra'zac had taken so much from him, his home, his people, his family, and even his first mentor and father figure Brom, and now the Ra'zac were dead.

But for some reason he didn't feel complete. Whenever he thought of killing the Ra'zac back when he and Brom were chasing them Eragon had thought he would be burning with triumph, pleased with the feats he had accomplish. But here he was staring at the dead body of his mortal foe and all he felt was slight melancholy. He was proud of himself, in fact he was very proud of defeating the Ra'zac, but he felt empty. How much had changed? How much had _he_ changed?

Was it good that he had taken down the Ra'zac without any help or showed any mercy? The Ra'zac had deserved death, anyone would agree to that. The Ra'zac were monsters that preyed on the weaker race that was the humans. He felt no regret in dealing the killing blow, but it shocked and even scared him slightly when he realized how much he had grown since last time.

The last time he had seen the Ra'zac was only around a year ago and he had seen with his very own eyes the gapping power difference between him and the cloaked figures. They had defeated him easily all the while getting the jump on Brom, who had been much stronger and wiser than he had been back then.

But here he was looking down on his defeated opponent, he had killed them easily enough though the Ra'zac definitely deserved their title of dragon hunters as they were no light weights.

A year ago he wouldn't have even been able to scratch them, he had grown during his time with the Varden and the elves. He had grown even more during his time in the desert, who knew that teaching a curious and adventurous teenager would give Eragon patience? He chuckled slightly as he now knew how much he had annoyed Brom with his own curiosity and adventurousness. The Eldunarí had given him access to their memories, allowing him to learn more than he had ever deemed possible.

But now as he saw the proof of how much he had changed so abruptly it made him pause. Had it just been his strength that had changed? No, he had changed as well. He was no longer ignorant of the world. He knew things now. Both from the Varden and during the time he had fled. While he was happy he still had some innocence as well as his honor, as seen when he had agreed to the dying Ra'zac to have its race be remembered for ages to come, he was glad to know that war as well as the betrayal of the Varden hadn't corrupted his heart and turned it dark and spiteful. If that had happened he would be just like Galbatorix.

"Good bye, Eater of Man's Flesh," he told the corpse, "may you find whatever afterlife your kind believes in." he then turned his back on the dead Ra'zac and headed back down the tunnel to the main cavern.

**Ancient Language**

"Brisingir flauga fram!" – Fire fly forward

"Fü!" – Force

"Garjzla, letta!" – Stop, light!

"Naina!" – Make bright!


	15. True Names & Talks

_You have grown, little one._ Saphira said as her Rider emerged from the dark tunnel, she nuzzled the young man protectively. Happy that he was safe though his thoughts were conflicted.

_Hopefully for the good,_ Eragon muttered before looking at the blue dragon quizzically, _did you find anything interesting?_

_Only their nests, as well as some bones that looked like a humans, not to mention the rancid smell of rotten flesh. Looks like Galbatorix had supplied them plenty of food for their services._

Eragon sighed wearily, _I will look around for anything we can use, hopefully the Ra'zac have information we desperately need._

Saphira nodded her giant head, Eragon quickly headed down the winding tunnel where he could feel the only life forces in the rock besides his own and Saphira's, Katrina and Sloan.

As he went down the tunnel Eragon found himself getting sidetracked whenever the tunnel split into a small cavern. He didn't find that many useful things. But he did find four bottles of Seithr Oil, which after a small debate he carefully put the deadly acid in his backpack. Casting a couple spells to make the bottle unbreakable, as he'd rather not have the deadly acid leak and seep into his back.

Eragon also found some deadly instruments that he knew not the name of, but judging on how it looked he was safe to guess it was for torture. He quickly destroyed the instruments until they were nothing but useless scrap on the floor.

He passed by what appeared to be some sort of hidden chamber filled with weapons. He grabbed dozens of quivers filled to the brim with arrows and with a quick incantation stored them away so he himself wouldn't have to carry them. He only found a dozen swords and bows, seeing as they wouldn't get lost as arrows but Eragon took them anyway.

After another couple minutes of careful treading, he wasn't sure if the Ra'zac had decided to trap any areas in case of intruders. He suddenly found himself in yet another chamber, but this one seemed to have scrolls instead of weapons or a random object. He quickly took all of them, seeing as he didn't have enough time to read every single scroll, the Empire would no doubt come after him and Saphira as the fishermen had probably told about her fight to the authorities. He'd much rather not have to fight his way out when he could just simply hurry up and fly out of the Gates of Hell without any trouble.

Finally he arrived to a small set of cells, he strode forward and with a quick spell and a slap to the iron metal, the prison door fell to the ground with a crashing _thud_.

Imprisonment had not suited Sloan. The once vigorously clean man had been reduced to a single mass of bruises, cuts and scratches, and looked like he had been pushed off a mountain and then dragged by the ankles down a rocky trail being pulled by horses.

Sloan's head jerked up at the loud and unexpected noise, what remained of his eyelids fluttered uselessly as he tried to franticly see what the commotion was.

Eragon quickly realized that the Ra'zac had pecked out Sloan's eyes. Now all that remained of the man's dark black eyes were the destroyed eye sockets, his infected eyes a bright red with small traces of sickening yellow. The areas under and around his eyes were heavily bruised and scabbed.

"What do you want?" Sloan asked. There was no trace of the usual disdain Eragon had heard so frequently during his childhood whenever he tried to sell his game to the village butcher. Sloan had always been the one who had insulted the Rider because of his poor family, not to mention the fact that no one knew who Eragon's real father was. Something that was highly looked down upon with humans.

Eragon knew not what to do. He may be a skilled warrior, able to defeat dozens of men by himself, but he was also a Rider. During the days of old the Riders would act to keep peace and order. Not to mention it was against his very heart and soul to strike a man down in cold blood with no way to protect himself, even if said man was Sloan.

Despite himself Eragon couldn't help but be thrust into his memories, back before any of this happened, back when he was just a normal hunter and farmer. Despite the fact that nearly all of his memories of Sloan were humiliating and angering, he couldn't help but feel some nostalgia as he thought of simpler and easier times.

He remembered that despite the man's infamous anger and temper, behind closed doors he could appear as a loving man, as he was well known to be very protective of his daughter Katrina. He couldn't have been a heartless monster if Katrina loved the man. Sloan wouldn't be to grieve for the tragic death of his wife when she tumbled down the falls in the Spine, seeing as any mention of the forest would make Sloan incredibly somber and hateful, he even refused to buy Saphira's egg when he learned it had come from within the Spine. Claiming it to be evil and deadly.

"I don't know anything!" Sloan protested, his thick hands held protectively in front of his tattered face, "I've told you everything I know!"

Eragon wondered if he should just kill the man now, if he were to run into any villager from Carvahall they wouldn't give him the ability for a fast and painful death, but the words seemed to be stuck in his throat.

Eragon remembered his soul-searching thoughts after he had killed the last Ra'zac, where he had wondered how much he had changed. He remembered when he, Saphira, and Murtagh were feeling the Urgals and heading towards the hiding place of the Varden. When they had been captured by slavers, and how Murtagh had killed the leader, Torkenbrand, without mercy or hesitation. Despite all that has happened to him…. He couldn't kill Sloan in cold blood. To do so would bring nothing but darkness to his still young and naïve heart.

"Please, just leave me and my daughter alone." Sloan's voice seemed to crack, showing the fear he had tried to desperately hide to what he thought was one of the Ra'zac.

"I'm afraid I can't do that, Sloan." Eragon said softly.

Sloan stopped cowering in the corner of his small cell, he turned his head in his direction as though hoping to catch just a small glimpse of whoever had spoken, as the speaker was no doubt a human, not a Ra'zac come to torture him for information he did not know.

"W-Who are you?" he asked, curiosty slowly weaving into his fearful tone. "Where are the Ra'zac. Is this a trick?" he demanded.

"I am nobody, as for the Ra'zac… they are currently bleeding on the floor, dead." Eragon told the former butcher.

Sloan mouthed the word _dead_ in disbelief. "You sound familiar," his head cocked to the side slightly as though puzzled, his face still pale as he realized that whoever this man was he had killed the Ra'zac, he was afraid of this stranger.

"That is because I am familiar to you, Sloan Aldensson. In more ways than you know."

"Please, stop talking in riddles!" Sloan begged the man, Eragon was taken aback on how much Sloan had changed during his time in Helgrind. He had gone from a prideful man who could slaughter a man as easily as a new born calf to a pitiful whimpering mess of a man.

"All will be revealed soon enough to you Sloan. I'm sure you are curious as to why I am here," Eragon told the butcher who seemed to stop trembling as he looked at Eragon with curiosity.

"Are you of the Varden? A soldier to the rebels?" Sloan asked Eragon, his tattered eyelids seeming to stare at Eragon despite the fact he couldn't see.

Eragon chuckled softly. "No, I'm not of the Varden. Though I was once, but no more. I serve nobody but myself. I do not listen to the ramblings of Mad King Galbatorix, nor Nausuda of the Varden. Especially not the idiotic and spoilt Orrin, King of Surda." He spat the last name out bitterly, seeing as it was Orrin's brilliant idea of killing Eragon if the war were to end in their favor.

"There is no way an individual can have the power to defeat the Ra'zac, I've seen them fight. Before they did this," he gestured towards the ribbons of flesh that used to be his eyes. "They're monsters, demons of the night. No normal man can kill them!"

"Well it seems you are wrong, as the Ra'zac are dead and I'm standing here talking to you." Eragon rebuked the man.

"How?... Who-" Sloan froze, his whole body as tensed as taut as a ready bowstring. His jaw went slack, the chin hung loosely from his face as though it was ready to just fall off. His body slowly but surely tried to make itself smaller, trying desperately to somehow hide in the craggy rocks. Sloan shook his head in disbelief and fear. "No, no, no…. NO…. It can't be. The Ra'zac spoke of this, I had thought they were merely telling tall tales, they demanded answers I didn't have or even know the basics of the very question." Sloan suddenly looked like he had been punched in the gut and then in the throat. "You can't be _Eragon."_ He said the Rider's name with apprehension and a great deal of fear and shock.

Eragon's breath suddenly got shorter as Sloan realized who he was, he hadn't expected the butcher to put the pieces together so soon, but Sloan had always been crafty and cunning. Eragon made sure to remember that despite his horrible ordeal of being a prisoner of the Ra'zac his mind was still as sharp if not sharper than before.

"Aye, I am Eragon and so much more. I have been hailed as Argetlam by the dwarves hidden in the Beor Mountains and by their king himself. I was named Shadeslayer after I because the first human to slay a Shade that went by the name of Durza. I have been called Firesword due to the flames I can conjure with the aid of magic. But above all, I am a _Rider._ A member of the legendary Dragon Riders, who have been hailed as the greatest warriors and peacemakers. I have taken the mantle as the leader of the Order of the Riders. My dragon and half my heart and soul is Saphira. Who has been called Bjartskular, or Brightscales. I was taught by Brom, who he himself was a Rider before me. Brom was no ordinary storyteller. He was the slayer of Morzan, the first and last of the infamous Forsworn. His name has forever been spoken with fear by the allies of the Empire. I was taught by dwarves and elves. I have delved into the forested region known as Du Weldenvarden, the home of the elves. I have meet their queen and I am friends with their princess. I was the great weapon of the rebel army the Varden, I was their symbol. And they betrayed me, I fled from them and I never looked back. I have begun my own way to end the reign of Galbatorix. I discovered an unknown Dragon egg, and I have found his Rider, who is my student. I am _Eragon_!" Eragon shouted the last part to the quivering man.

For good measure Eragon forcefully entered the man's mind and showed him his memories, proving everything he had done was true. He even showed him Bjartkoü and Ronan.

Sloan continued to tremble but he seemed to pull himself up from the collapsed position where he hung limply to the wall by his shackles. "Blast you," Sloan snarled to Eragon. "I do not have to explain myself to you. I did it all for Katrina, you can whip me, beat me, hell take my hands! But I won't regret what I did if it meant that my daughter is safe."

Eragon chortled. "Oh I won't kill you Sloan," Eragon told the man whose face erupted in shock. "No I will do no such thing. One of the things I have learned from my experiences is that sometimes a second chance is in order. You did ultimate evil for ultimate love. While I hate the fact you killed your friends I know you did it for your daughter. It is that reason, and that reason only, why you are still alive. But I will not let you loose without being able to keep an eye on you, you will come with me and I will judge you to see if you are worthy of your second chance." Eragon then looked at Sloan as though seeing him for the first time. An unguided force moved his lips and made him form words he had not thought before. _"Hatred and pain hidden by love."_

Sloan suddenly shuddered as though a chill as icy as the snow on the top of the Beor Mountains had suddenly been dumped on him. The hair on the back of Eragon's neck prickled upwards.

He had just discovered Sloan's True Name. He could order the man to jump off the highest peak on Helgrind and the butcher would have to oblige without complaint. He could completely alter the man, take away his identity. Because Eragon knew his identity, even more than Sloan himself.

"Listen well Sloan, for I shall say this only once. I am breaking you free from this prison, Katrina is in the other cell alive and safe." Sloan's head perked at that, his taut features seemed to slowly melt in relief. "We are going to get Katrina. _You will not tell her what has been and will be discussed in this room._" His icy tone made Sloan shiver. "You and her shall come with me, and you, Sloan Aldensson, shall swear an oath to me in the Ancient Language. A language where you cannot lie, much less break an oath. You will swear fealty to me as though I was your king, in a way I am, I am your leader and you will obey my orders without any deceit or traitorous thoughts."

"You can't do this," Sloan whispered. "You can't force me to swear fealty to you!"

Eragon said his true name, but this time loud enough for Sloan to hear it. An expression of horror and revelation crawled onto Sloan's face, and he threw up his arms as best as he could due to the shackles that bound him and howled as though he had been stabbed with a rusty dagger. His cry was primal and guttural, as though something different had taken the man over, taken away his will and control. The scream of a man condemned by his own nature and very being by a fate and destiny he had no chance or even choice of escaping.

"I can and I will!" Eragon roared at the butcher, tired of the whole conversation, knowing they had so little time to escape. "You _will_ listen to me, obey me, and you will give me the respect I have earned!"

Eragon called upon the power of magic, he forced Sloan to swear oaths that he would not reveal anything he had learned today besides Eragon, especially the fact of Bjartkoü and Ronan's existence. Despite the protesting and trying desperately not to speak, Sloan was forced by himself to swear the oaths in the Ancient Language.

The second the final oath was spoken through Sloan's protesting lips Sloan seemed to collapse, the only reason he didn't crumble to the ground was because of the iron shackles above his head. "What did you do to me?" Sloan whispered.

"I discovered your true nature, Sloan. I have found the phase that defines you to the exact detail. You have loved two things in your life, your wife and your daughter. You loved them, your heart would always beat with passion and joy whenever you saw and talk to them. You weren't a love-struck loon but a man who had found true happiness. But it was taken away from you… wasn't it?" Eragon asked softly while Sloan flinched at his words. "Because from your love hate and pain was born. Your hatred for the Spine and anything relating to it would make your blood boil as you thought of how your wife Ismira died in the mountains… that was one of the major reasons you disliked me, wasn't it? Because of my unique skill and talent to journey to the heart of the Spine and emerged unharmed, you wished that you had that so you could of protected your wife from tragic fate. And then there is Katrina, the one thing left of your wife and the only child you have. A daughter you love so much, you wanted to protect her from the harsh evil that the world has to offer, that's why you were always angry at her if she didn't obey you. You were afraid of an incident where Katrina was killed. You wanted her to have what you had but lost, a happy and loving life. That's why you didn't like my cousin, Roran, you thought she deserved more than a simple farmer, that she was worthy of becoming a Queen, you weren't being cocky you were merely stating what you believe. And then when Roran revealed that he had disobeyed the customs and was engaged to Katrina without your permission, that Katrina had betrayed you by agreeing. It ripped your heart into a thousand shreds. It hurt. That's why you sided with the Ra'zac, you merely wished to protect your daughter." Eragon said as he completely described Sloan's soul. He crouched down to the man who flinched away from the Rider. "Why didn't you see how much of a mistake it was to side with the Ra'zac? Did you really believe that they would keep their word and protect you? You were blinded by love and the natural instinct to protect your child."

Sloan tried to curl up into a ball as he shied away from the man. Eragon sighed wearily. "Come on Sloan. Time is not on our side, don't you wish to be reunited with your daughter?" Sloan quickly nodded his head, despite the emotional turmoil he was going through. Eragon pointed his hand at the shackles. "Jierda!" With a couple of blue sparks the metal fell to the ground. Sloan shakily got up, rubbing his arms where the metal had dug into his skin.

Eragon helped the weakened man through the cell and led him to Katrina's cell. With another word the door fell to the ground, Eragon walked in, Sloan quickly stumbling after him, having to wrap his arm around Eragon's shoulders to move without collapsing.

A single wax candle illuminated the dusty and cramped cell, Katrina cowered into the wall. "Leave me alone! You damn toothless bastards-" Katrina suddenly stopped when she saw her father.

"Father!" Katrina cried in happiness of seeing her father alive.

"Katrina," Sloan whispered out before stumbling forward and wrapping his daughter in a back breaking hug. "My child." Tears slowly filled into his ruined eyes and trailed down his dirty and scratched cheeks. "Oh thanks the gods, you're alright." His fingers fumbled down Katrina's face, searching for any injuries as he could no longer see.

"Father, y-your eyes!" Tears filled Katrina's brown eyes as she saw the tatters of flesh that had once been his eyes. "Oh, what have they done to you!" she chocked out as she tenderly rubbed his back, Sloan was shuddering as he tried to control his sobs.

"It matters not what happened to me, only that you are alright. Did you hear me, Katrina? Everything is going to be alright. The Ra'zac are dead and we are leaving this place." Sloan spoke softly to her as he cradled her closer to him, as though he was afraid she would suddenly disappear in his arms.

"D-Dead but how-" Katrina stopped speaking as she realized someone was behind Sloan. Her eyes widened when she saw the familiar yet matured face of an old friend. "Eragon!"

Eragon smiled softly as his future cousin-in-law. "Hello Katrina, it's been awhile hasn't it?"

"How are you here? We were so worried when you up and vanished with Brom! I feared you dead! How did you come here? Is Roran with you?" The questions tumbled out of Katrina as she looked at the former farm boy with wide eyes.

"Well some things arose and I had to leave the village. And no, Roran isn't here. I have no idea where he is, to be honest." Seeing the sadness and disbelief in her eyes he quickly added. "Not to worry, he hasn't forgotten about you. He's with the Varden. When I met with him a couple months ago he was frantic on rescuing you, he's the reason I found out that you were trapped in Helgrind. So in a way he did keep his promise even if he himself wasn't here to accomplish it."

Katrina smiled softly. "I am glad to hear that Roran is okay, I was so worried about him."

Eragon knelt beside the girl and her father. "Katrina, I can use magic." At the widening of her eyes he quickly added, "no I'm not an evil sorcerer like storytellers like to speak of. I have to go into your mind and see that no one has tampered with it. I won't hurt you, its me, Eragon." Eragon smiled softly at the girl to quench her fears.

Katrina slowly nodded and Eragon entered her mind, he was as gentle as a feather, he slowly shifted through Katrina's memories to see if anyone had tampered with them or made her swear oaths in the Ancient Language. Occasionally Katrina would flinch, but he could see that she calmed herself by remembering this wasn't a torturer, it was Eragon. Someone who had been a part of her life before everything had been turned upside down.

Eragon was very thankful that he had decided to keep the appearance of before he was transformed into a human/elf hybrid. He knew that Katrina would have been scared of seeing a familiar face but so different and alien. Seeing his normal face reassured her that he wouldn't hurt her, or that he was no longer exactly human.

"I'm done," Eragon slowly announced. "You are completely clean, no one had messed with your memory."

Sloan sighed in relief. "Thank the gods."

"Katrina I'm going to use magic to get you out of these binds. Please do not panic, magic is harmless to those who are careful." Eragon reassured the girl. Though she had gone through hell for the past couple of months, she was still an average country girl. If he suddenly said a word and magic occurred she would be easily startled and afraid of him. Something he did not want from someone he knew so well.

Katrina slowly nodded, fear still evident in her eyes. "Jierda!" Eragon spoke as Katrina's iron manacles turned into useless metal in a flurry of blue sparks.

"Magic…" Katrina whispered in disbelief as she stared at the useless metal that had bounded her.

Eragon slowly reached out to her, she didn't flinch away from him, but he saw her tense. "Katrina, its me. Sure I'm much more handsome, dashing, heroic, and your current knight in shimmering armor. But honestly you're acting like I'm a complete stranger." Eragon teased the girl who couldn't help but crack a small smile at Eragon's teasing tone.

Katrina suddenly hugged him. "It's really you. Though despite you being my so called 'knight in shimmering armor' you're still that knucklehead who managed to anger that badger when you went by her den. I still remember you running on the outskirts of the village with an angry mother badger chasing after you."

Eragon slumped at that memory. "You know that was an accident. And for your information I bet I could take that badger with my hands tied behind my back!"

Katrina laughed, and her eyes seemed to get warmer as she remembered happier and simpler times. Eragon saw why Roran loved Katrina so much, she was one of a kind. Eragon was happy that she was going to marry his cousin/surrogate brother. They were a match made in heaven.

"We should hurry, I'd rather not stay here for much longer. Saphira said that the Empire may soon be here, we can talk later." Eragon said as he helped Katrina and Sloan to their feet. Eragon then held out a strip of cloth. "Tie this around your eyes Katrina. You've been in the dark for too long, the sunlight could damage your eyes." Katrina nodded and tied the cloth around her eyes. She then grabbed her father's arm and gently pulled her along with her, the cloth thin enough for her to see Eragon's glinting chainmail, and the three quickly left the cavern.

The three quickly went down the long winding tunnel. Soon enough they could see bright light ahead, Saphira was calmly waiting for them.

Katrina gasped as she beheld Saphira. She may have run had not Eragon shot her a look telling her she was safe.

"Katrina what is it?" Sloan asked his daughter, he instinctively went in front of her protectively, despite not knowing the fact he was facing off a gigantic dragon that could have easily snapped him up with little to no trouble.

"A-A d-dragon!" Katrina gasped while Sloan tensed.

"Oh, yeah. I forgot to tell you, I'm a dragon Rider." Eragon told the young woman who looked at Eragon as though he had grown a second head.

Eragon scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "Probably should have mentioned that earlier, eh?"

_Greetings_. Saphira told the two former prisoners who stumbled back in surprise.

"It is an honor, O mighty dragon." Katrina managed to say. She dipped her knees in a weak imitation of a curtsy.

Sloan tensely nodded his head in the direction he had heard Saphira's voice.

"All right, we have to leave now. Don't worry about-" Eragon suddenly stopped, his body tensed, his eyes wide. Besides him Saphira tensed as well, her tail flicking in agitation.

"Eragon, what is wrong?" Katrina asked fearfully, wondering if the Empire was already here.

"I don't believe it…" Eragon trailed off as he looked at the entrance of the cave in surprise and disbelief. "I can't believe I didn't sense them. Damn it, I got distracted."

_What should we do?_ Saphira asked her Rider mentally. _Eragon we can't fight them._

_I'm aware of that Saphira. By the gods can't we do one thing without it blowing up in our faces?_ Eragon thought wearily.

"Eragon, what's wrong? Whose coming?" Katrina whispered, his eyes fixed on the entrance.

"Get behind Saphira, quickly." Saphira moved so she was now side by side her Rider, Sloan and Katrina behind her. Her muscles were tense as she waited for the newcomers to appear… any second now they would be here.

Eragon sighed as he leaned against Saphira's bicep. Suddenly two shadows were at the entrance. One was large and bulky, while the other was more slender and petite but moved with a more refined grace than the larger one who seemed to be extremely tense as the larger figure seemed to walk with a slight lurch.

Then the two figures entered the cave. Their faces illuminated by the sunlight.

Eragon gave them a mock wave, his hilt on _Unbitr_. "My, my my, so surprising to see you two here. Oh, don't look so surprised to see me. What, did you think I was dead?" Eragon chuckled at that. "Well I am happy to prove that I am alive and well, eh….. Roran? Arya?"

**You guys must hate me right now, eh can't be helped I had to end it there. I hope you guys liked me interpretation of Sloan's True Names, seeing as CP never gave us his True Name, hopefully my explanation will satisfy some doubters.**


	16. Confrontations

Eragon calmly stood by Saphira as he looked at the newcomers. Roran, was dressed in the traditional armor, though instead of using a sword he preferred a hammer. Hence his nickname 'Stronghammer'. Roran was gapping like a fish at the unexpected reunion between brothers.

Arya was… gods, even with maturing more and learning greater patience the elf still took his breath away. She was stunning, as usual. She wore her armor as well, but even the chainmail did nothing to hinder her beauty in all its perfection, her sword was held at the ready. But what surprised Eragon the most was her face. Arya was always known to be more stoic and cold, but his presence seemed to have cracked her icy exterior. She was looking at him in shock, an emotion he could not place sparkled in her eye but it was gone before he could recognize it.

"Eragon!" Roran exclaimed.

"Roran!" Katrina shrieked as she ran away from behind Saphira in her haste to get to her beloved. Roran's facial features went blank before he dropped his hammer on the rocky ground and quickly ran to the approaching Katrina. Once she was in arms reach he grabbed her and pulled him close to his body. A strangled cry of laughter and relief came from Roran as he spun her around in a circle.

"Katrina, y-you're. You're-," Roran stumbled out, tears streaming down his tanned cheeks and into his beard. "Oh thank the heavens you're safe!" he quickly kissed her and held her even closer.

"You grew a beard!" Katrina exclaimed as she tenderly stroked the bristled hairs, all the while gazing into Roran's love-struck eyes with her brown eyes alight with love and passion.

Eragon chuckled at that. Roran's attention snapped back to Eragon, his eyes wide in shock. "How?" he quickly asked.

Eragon smiled. "Well if I remember correctly when we last met on the Burning Plains you might have mentioned how Katrina and Sloan were kidnapped by the Ra'zac and were in Helgrind."

"Eragon…" Arya whispered but he could hear it due to his enhanced hearing. Just the sound of her voice made Eragon's inside twist and churn, he was glad that it was dark so Roran and Arya couldn't see the faint blush on his cheeks.

Eragon smiled at her, "hello Arya. It's been far too long since we've last met, hasn't it?"

"You… where were you?" Arya demanded, a lone tear trailing down her flawless cheek, surprising Eragon. "You disappeared. I had no idea where you had gone, not a trace left. And with the Red Rider, I was so afraid you may have been taken. But then I heard that you left of your own accord. But you're here…. Why did you leave?" she whispered the last part.

"Arya… it's a long story."

"What of the Ra'zac?" Roran asked the Rider, glancing around the cavern as though the Ra'zac would appear at the sound of their name.

"Dead." Eragon said simply as he shrugged.

"Dead?" Roran questioned. "How, you killed them all by yourself?"

_I'm right here you know._ Saphira snorted as she leaned closer as she spoke to Roran and Arya. _Are you thinking I would let Eragon fight those monsters by himself? Obviously I helped as well._

Everyone heard stumbling behind Eragon and Saphira. Roran tensed when he saw Sloan stumble out of Saphira's shadow. "_You!"_

"Roran… is that you?" Sloan asked bitterly, he stepped forward so they could see the tattered remains of Sloan's eyes. Roran stepped back in shock.

"By the gods, what happened to you?" Roran whispered, his anger gone due to the shock of Sloan's disfigured features.

"The work of the Ra'zac." Eragon explained, "I hope you aren't planning on trying to kill Sloan, Roran… I'll have to stop you if you do so." He quietly threatened, though the thought of harming his surrogate brother tore at Eragon on the inside.

Roran looked at him in surprise. "He's a traitor! He killed Bryd and all the others. He betrayed us to the Ra'zac!" Roran yelled at the Rider.

"He did it for love, I won't say that he isn't guilty of his crimes. But I do believe in second chances, Roran." Eragon said to his cousin. "I've learned while during my self imposed retreat, I am aware of the fact he betrayed our people, but would you not strike down any man or creature that dared try to harm me? Katrina? Sloan did an awful thing, yes I know, but he just wanted to protect Katrina, would you not protect her with all your heart and ability, even if it meant making the hardest choice in the world?"

Roran merely stood there as he heard Eragon's words. He of course would strike down any man or being that would harm his loved ones. But would he betray the people of his village for one person? Roran didn't know the answer, nor did he wish to know.

Arya stared at Eragon with her age-old eyes, but Eragon did not flinch aware from the gaze, he instead stared back levelly. "You've grown, Eragon." Arya stated as she gazed at the runaway Rider, and she wasn't just speaking about his physical appearance.

Eragon shrugged, "it was that or get killed." He cracked a small smile at the elven princess. "And we both know that I wouldn't go down without a fight." Arya smiled slightly knowing that Eragon was correct.

"Eragon, what happened at the Battle of the Burning Plains?" Roran questioned the young Rider, his eyes and tone curious to know the reason why Eragon had left the Varden.

"Like I said, it's a long story."

Roran scowled. "Bah, you're as stubborn as Brika when she got stuck in mud." He said referring to the stubborn old roan horse that had been one of the few large animals in Garrow's farm. "Blast it Eragon, just tell us."

Eragon sighed again. "Fine, but I cannot tell you all of it, and when I am done I want you to promise me that you will try and keep calm."

Roran raised a brow at that but said nothing and merely nodded his head. Arya continued to stand there, her mere presence making Eragon as nervous as a love struck fool, but he had to get rid of his emotions now, it wasn't good to lose his wits when time was so short.

Eragon then told them of the events leading up to and after the Battle of the Burning Plains, the entire time nobody spoke but just listened in shock and disbelief.

When Eragon finished his tale after his meeting of Murtagh at Argoughs he looked at the two with an unreadable expression.

Roran's face had turned a radiant shade of red and purple, he seemed to be quivering, Katrina held him close as though to make sure he wasn't about to lose control.

Arya… Arya's entire face and posture was one of shock. Her beautiful forest green eyes had dimmed and seemed to glint in the pale sunlight, the unshed tears were swirling in her eyes making Eragon think of the ocean. But then Arya's expression turned murderous, the air around her started to tremble and quiver as her temper, for once, seemed to get the best of her, the cavern seemed to heat up from her fiery temper, no doubt being aided by magic even if it wasn't her intention.

Katrina's face was set in a scowl of both anger and pity. Anger at the Varden for plotting to murder Eragon, despite all he had done for them, and pity for Eragon that he had been betrayed by those he thought he could trust.

"The next time I see any of those grub-bellied scoundrels, those worm-brained idiots, those rotten-fleshed creatures, I'll, I'll," Roran snarled as he tightened his grip on his trusty hammer, Katrina clung to him as though to hold him back if he decided to charge all the way across the Empire to whack a couple Varden leaders in the head with his hammer.

"I don't believe it. After everything you've done for them, for everyone, they wanted to stab you in the back the second you had done all the work for them," Arya stated with a tone as cold as ice. "Orik and I… we knew that something had happened, that we weren't being told the whole picture. But never in all my years would I have ever thought…"

"Trust me, I was more surprised than you. I hope you two understand my reasons for leaving. How is Orik?" Eragon asked curiously, thinking of his clan-brother with fondness. "I've been, I guess you could say, off the grid. I don't know enough things that I would like, I haven't dared tried to contact anyone with magic, due to the fact I didn't want my signature to be traced back to my location, which I would much rather have not known to anyone outside of two other individuals aside from Saphira and myself."

Arya's entire posture was rigid, her hands clenched into tightened fists. "You should have tried to contact me, I would never have betrayed you, didn't you trust me? Orik? We could of helped you!" she retorted, her anger surprising Eragon, seeing as Arya had always been the one to rein in her temper and treat every situation with the same icy coldness she possessed, but apparently _that_ had been thrown out of the window, or Eragon guessed you could say cave entrance seeing as they were in a cave.

Eragon blushed in embarrassment, "I didn't know what to do! We had just basically found out that my leaders, one who I had sworn my fealty too mind you, had decided to stab me in the back and either kill me or banish me, I was a little low on trust at that moment!"

Roran was still scowling, reminding Eragon of one of the gargoyles located in the cathedral in Dres Leona. "I don't get it, it makes no sense. Orrin, I can see him being the yellow-bellied scoundrel who'd stick a knife in your ribs without hesitation if it would benefit him, but _Nasuada?_ Sure she can be a bit cold, but for good reason. She doesn't strike me as a woman so cold-blooded, though I must admit her punishments," he winced slightly and his left hand twitched near his back, "can be rather severe." Roran looked at the Rider and dragoness with confusion evident in his brown eyes, "but I would never think of her as a backstabber, I felt like she at least had a bit of honor, seeing as all the other higher ups are a bunch of snobs who either like to preen themselves and lick each others boots if it helped them."

Eragon sighed and rubbed his temples as the impending headache was soon to come. "I was surprised as well, but at least her proposition was better than Orrin's." Eragon looked at the two with seriousness in his brown eyes, "I hope to let you know that I hold no hard feelings towards Nasuada."

"What!?" Roran gapped at the Rider. "Did the Ra'zac hit you on the head during your fight, have you gone daft? She was willing to backstab you!"

"No, Orrin was willing to backstab me." Eragon pointed out. "Orrin wished to simply kill me, Nasuada knew that even if she stopped the attack Orrin would just continue to try and kill me. She felt that the safest course of action, for both me and Alagaësia, was to simply banish me. In a way, she was protecting me."

Roran snorted. "That's one way of looking at it. Still doesn't make it right."

"I'm afraid I agree with Roran, Eragon." Katrina said to her future cousin-in-law, "you didn't deserve what happened to you. To think you would become another Galbatorix, obviously that foolish king of Surda was kicked in the head by a mule when he was a baby."

"And dropped on his head repeatedly," Roran added in. "Possibly didn't get enough oxygen during his birth."

"He was probably given bitter and musty ale when he was still suckling," Eragon added in with a small grin as they continued to insult King Orrin of Surda.

Arya rolled her eyes at the banter, but a small smile graced her lips as she listened towards the three former residents of Carvahall insult Orrin, who was now exactly at the top of the people she hated, the only one above him was, of course, Galbatorix.

Eragon's smile turned sad, Roran stopped laughing while Katrina looked at her friend with concern in her warm brown eyes. "You two have to go…" Eragon whispered to the soon to be wed couple.

Roran's eyes seemed to bulge out of their sockets. "Go?" he repeated somewhat dumbly, not understanding what he meant, and not wanting to understand, because he had a feeling on what was going to happen.

Eragon sighed and gave the couple a forlorn smile, as though he wished nothing more for them to come with him. "It's not safe to come with me. I'll only get you hurt, all of you." He glanced at Arya as he said this. The elf tensed as she saw the implications, she narrowed her eyes.

"Katrina, you're pregnant. Aren't you?" Eragon asked softly.

Katrina looked at him in shock, her hand instantly resting on her stomach, which had yet to bulge. Roran looked at him in surprise, knowing full well he hadn't told Eragon that during their brief encounter at the Battle of the Burning Plains.

"How-" Katrina stuttered out. They all heard a strangled cry and saw that Sloan was being held in the air by Saphira's tail. Judging by his beet red facing and bulging veins he had heard Eragon's statement. "You! I'll stab you in the guts with a cleaver!" he snarled in what he assumed was Roran's direction.

"Slytha!" Eragon spoke in Sloan's direction, the butcher's head sagged forward as he fell unconscious. "Probably should have done that earlier." Eragon muttered to himself. "Don't worry he's only asleep," he told the concerned Katrina. "As I was saying, I could feel the child's energy inside, of course."

Katrina and Roran looked at him in shock, "you did?" Katrina asked with a whisper, her hand placed on her stomach lightly.

"Is it…" Roran asked before trailing off.

Eragon grinned, "the child is strong, the fetus hasn't been damaged at all despite what happened to you Katrina. I'm afraid it's still to early to determine the baby's gender."

Relief flooded Roran and Katrina's face. "The gender matters not, as long as our child is safe and healthy," Roran said with Katrina nodding, a small tear of relief and joy streaking down her pale and dirty cheek.

"While I'm happy that our family is growing, you won't be safe with me," Eragon explained. A pregnant woman living in the middle of the desert surrounded by Shrrg and dragons, all the while with the threat of Galbatorix discovering them and sending Murtagh and Thorn or, gods forbid, Galbatorix himself decided to come and capture the Riders, a pregnant woman wouldn't be safe there. While Eragon knew that Katrina was made of tougher stuff, Eragon didn't want all the stress and fear to hurt the baby.

"Then where are we to go, if not with you?" Roran demanded his surrogate brother.

"The Varden."

Roran's face turned bright red whilst Katrina looked at the Rider in shock. "Have you gone mad?" Roran demanded. "Do you honestly think I will take Katrina back towards that army of traitors? Not to mention if they find out you told us what happened, they'd probably execute us without hesitation!"

"No they wont." Eragon said with steeled eyes. "The Varden knows that if they killed you and Katrina, they would have burned down every bridge that would place them back in my good books. They know if they killed you two, it would bring the full fury of both myself and Saphira, as well any of our allies that we have made. The Varden has grown weaker in my absence, with fewer people joining their cause now that I've left, not to mention they are already fighting two other Riders, one the King himself, they don't need another enemy Rider, one that could effectively destroy them better than Murtagh or even Galbatorix ever could."

Arya's eyes lit in understanding. "You would shatter their spirit." She murmured, her soft voice still able to reach everyone's ears. "If any soldier saw the Varden's greatest warrior, though now gone rogue, attacking the Varden, and leaving it in shambles, they would know that the Varden had in someway betrayed you. They would all desert, leaving the Varden undefended."

"The Empire could easily crush them. The Varden, at least the soldiers, pretty much idolizing you, will desert Nasuada and Orrin, they would have effectively been the main factor of the Varden's downfall, and not even the Empire could cause so much damage. Sure the Empire could kill the leaders and the majority of the soldiers, but few would escape and spread their tale, have others join them. And in a decade or so the Varden would be back with the old soldiers and new alike. But if there is no one to spread the idealology, because the soldiers would have abandoned it if they realized how corrupted the Varden leaders are, to kill their champion just to make things easier, even if there was the miniscule chance of Eragon become like Galbatorix or worse," Roran's facial features turned annoyed and his tone angered, "which is as soon as I were to kill Katrina or someone of Carvahall, or if Saphira were to become a vegetarian and swear off meat forever."

_Which will never happen, mind you._ Saphira announced with an annoyed puff of smoke erupting from her nostrils. _While I understand the elves way of thinking, a dragon cannot survive on lettuce, I am a dragon not a rabbit._

"The soldiers won't just simply see it as them taking a precaution. It was a backstabbing of the highest degree. Eragon is the key, the symbol, the very virtue of freedom itself!" Roran exclaimed. "And for Orrin and the others to try and kill, no, to _murder! _To murder him, the soldiers would see that as an attack on every thing they are fighting for, the very reason they are fighting. _Freedom. _If they killed Eragon on just the thought of him betraying them, what would stop the leaders from killing them, simple soldiers? Nothing! The only one who isn't a commander in the Varden and still held power was Eragon, but if he were dead… there would be nobody to protect them, the common folk. Especially if Orrin were to take charge, with how he acts and reigns, he would become a new, yet less powerful, Galbatorix. Some may even try to take action, try to have a mutiny. Which would lead to more deaths, and more anger and paranoia will grow in the soldiers and common folk. People would try and leave, the Varden would effectively be destroyed by the people who made it strong."

Eragon was impressed that his farmer cousin had managed to figure it out so quickly, though he was a bit embarrassed with the thought of people thinking of him as the symbol of freedom itself. Despite being a bit hot-headed, Eragon was quite modest of himself, no doubt because of his humble beginnings. "I see fighting in a war and having men under your command has made you quite the strategist, Roran."

Roran shrugged it off, though Eragon quickly noted the pained looked that flashed in his cousins eyes, he knew that look as well. It was the same look he had when he remembered of all the men he had slain, Eragon grew angry and bitterly thought for the thousandth time that Roran shouldn't have been dragged into this war, he should be safe back on the farm in Carvahall, but Galbatorix seemed dead set on destroying everything in his life and those around him that he loved dearly.

"It was that or get stabbed with a sword or pike, good thing I'm a fast learner," Roran joked as he tried to lighten the mood, Katrina looking at him in worry. She too had see the brief yet settling flash of pain that had come across her beloved's eyes, she held him closer, if possible, and Roran seemed to relax as he inhaled her scent and her familiar touch.

"Saphira and I will drop you off south of Feinster," Eragon finally said after a long silence, he refused to meet Arya's gaze, wincing when he could practically feel her eyes burning into him. "It's the closest we can get to Surda without attracting attention from both the Varden and Surda. I'm afraid I can't let my brother and future cousin-in-law who is with child, walk halfway through the heart of the Empire, especially with a ransom that would make even a wealthy noble out for your blood on your head, Roran."

Roran snorted, "as though some sniveling noble could bring me down, they would meet the face of my hammer before they had the chance to taunt me." Roran suddenly turned somber, "We can help you, Eragon. We are family, and family will always be loyal to family, we look out for each other."

Eragon smiled softly but shook his head, "and that is what I am doing. Looking out for you and Katrina. Please," he whispered but they could hear the desperation and pain laced within his tone. "Please don't make this harder than it has to be. If I let you come and one of you died… I'd-I'd," he seemed to choke at the thought of Roran or Katrina being taken from this world before it was freed by Galbatorix. "I would never forgive myself."

Eragon glanced at Arya, who had surprisingly stayed quiet. Her eyes were sad and somber, as though she understood everything he meant. _She probably did,_ Eragon mused, _she always did have a knack for knowing everything about me, even when I myself didn't know._

_We must go._ Saphira's deep yet feminine voice rang in everyone's heads. _The Empire will be here soon, best we not linger._

"Aye." Eragon agreed.

Roran still looked like he was about to protest but before he could speak Katrina placed her pale hand on his burly arm, she gazed into his eyes and even though neither were magicians nor had the ability to read or project thoughts, Eragon could tell they were having a conversation with only their eyes. Eragon knew better than to invade their privacy, nor would he ever think of doing that to his family.

Whatever conversation the two lovers were having seemed to end as Roran sighed wearily. Roran Stronghammer looked at Eragon with weary acceptance and nodded his head. "Very well. We will listen to your request," though judging by his tone he wasn't happy about it.

Katrina didn't look happy either but she knew Eragon enough that when he made a decision he wouldn't budge. She would abide to his wishes, because he was family, and she loved him as though he was a brother, she knew that he wished to keep them safe, but Katrina wished there was more they could do. Perhaps in the future they could help him as he has helped them more times than ever, Eragon saved her from the monsters known as the Ra'zac, he saved her father and gave him a second chance, he was –as he liked to call himself- her knight in shimmering armor, though he was a bit of a bonehead and stubborn if Katrina was honest, and despite being as stubborn as a mule, he was Eragon. And she would always hold him dear to her heart, he was her family and her beloved's brother.

Without another word Katrina, Roran and Aya followed Eragon and got onto Saphira's back, Eragon had muttered a spell that would make Sloan hover slightly above and behind them, seeing as there wasn't that much room on the saddle. Roran sat in the back, his arms wrapped securely around Katrina's slim waist. Eragon tried not to blush as he realized Arya was sitting behind him.

_Even after all this time you are still the love-struck fool,_ Saphira muttered with a snort, her limbs tensed as she got ready to leap out of the cave and fly away from this evil place.

_Call me love-struck, but I am no longer the fool._

**[][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][] [][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][] [][][][][][][][][][][]**

There were no problems when they left Helgrind, they could see a large dust cloud rolling towards the Gates of Death, knowing that it was Dres Leona's cavalry Saphira flew higher until she was covered by the clouds.

As they headed south Eragon turned around to look at Roran, who was looking slightly nauseous and refused to look down. Eragon slowly and gently sent his consciousness into Roran's. Roran immediately tensed when he felt a different conscious enter his head but relaxed when he realized it was Eragon. _Roran… I'm sorry._

Roran knew what he was talking about. Eragon was basically apologizing for everything. Finding Saphira's egg, bringing it back home, raising Saphira in secret instead of telling Garrow and him, leading the Ra'zac to Carvahall and killing Roran's father Garrow. Leaving before Garrow was even buried with only a note from Brom telling Roran to be careful and watch his back, the Ra'zac returning and Carvahall's destruction.

_I know… and I forgive you._

Eragon's eyes widened, shock coursing through his body. He had expected when Roran had gotten over the shock of his reappearance a punch in the face at least… But Roran had forgiven him? Not even Eragon himself had forgiven himself for the misfortunes he had caused to his family and people, nor would Eragon probably ever forgive himself and come to terms with what occurred.

Roran seemed to sense Eragon's inner conflict. _When I first learned everything, yes I was mad. But over these last couple of months… not knowing if I was going to see another day or die in battle like so many of the men I have slain, it makes a man think on what really important in life. And that is family. Your family will always be there for you, through thick and thin. I know you didn't mean for what happened to happen, and I know that if you could turn back the wheels of time you would try and prevent it from happening. You're my brother Eragon, and Garrow was as just as much a father to you as he was to me. And after helping me in my time of need, saving Katrina, how could I possibly hate you? You saved Katrina when I couldn't, so you have my eternal gratitude. _Roran told the young Rider truthfully, his tone warm as he regarded his surrogate brother.

Eragon felt his eyes water (and it wasn't because of the wind), never would Eragon have believed that Roran would have ever truly forgiven him, Eragon had always believed himself to be Garrow's true murderer, for if he had not hidden Saphira from them Garrow may have been able to live thanks to that knowledge. Not to mention the fact that Eragon never got to warn Garrow of the Ra'zac as Saphira had basically kidnapped him and taken him far into the Spine, safe from the Ra'zac but dooming his uncle to death and torture. And with him being inside Roran's mind he could knew Roran was telling the truth one hundred percent, Roran had forgiven him despite everything that had happened due to his idiocy and carelessness.

_Thank you._ Eragon said to his cousin gratefully, Eragon felt as though a large weight had been lifted from his already burdened shoulders. A small bit of the guilt he carried with him had dissolved knowing his brother didn't hate him for what happened and that he had forgiven him. While the guilt was still there, trapped in his heart and mind, at least it no longer sent him crashing to the ground by its sheer weight, while it wasn't an actual physical weight, the problems of the mind were always worse than problems outside the body. At least if the problem isn't in you there is still a chance to fight and beat it, but in your head, there was no respite, no hesitation. Your mind was your worse enemy, and you couldn't defeat what you really were. But now Eragon felt as though the pressure the little voice in the back of his head reminding him of all the wrongs he had done, how he had betrayed Carvahall in way, be silenced.

By the time they were south of Feinster the sun was beginning to set. Saphira landed on a small hill tucked in a forest, allowing the giant dragon to land without any chance of any human seeing them.

"Well I guess this is goodbye," Roran muttered as Katrina stood next to him.

"For now." Eragon said as he held out his hand.

"Aye, for now." Roran agreed as he shook Eragon's hand and gave the younger man a quick hug and a slap on the back. "Don't get yourself killed out there brother, eh? Wouldn't want you to die before seeing your niece or nephew." Roran tried to lighten the mood.

Eragon smiled, "aye indeed. No doubt your child will be as curious I am, as strong as you are, and will probably get Garrow's stubbornness as well." Eragon grimaced, "it seems to run strong in our family." He said wryly.

Roran chuckled, "let's hope not." He said as he fondly remembered his father and his stubborn as a mule attitude. Something both he and Eragon shared to an extent, though Roran doubted anyone could be more stubborn than his father had been.

Eragon gave the saddened Katrina a quick and soft hug. "Stay safe," Eragon murmured in her ear, "and make sure Roran doesn't do anything stupid."

Katrina's mouth curved into a small smile, "I'm afraid its easier said than done." She told Eragon who chortled knowing she was right.

Eragon fished for something in his pocket before revealing two gold rings. While looking plain to the unassuming eye if one were to look closely they would notice the faint tracings of runes engraved into the soft metal.

"Here, consider these a wedding gift," Eragon pressed a ring into the hands of the couple. "While its is not the most lavish gift in appearance I created them for a more practical use than mere jewelry. These rings will do three things. First, if either you, Roran and Katrina, twist the ring once around their finger and say 'Help me, Shadeslayer or help me, Brightscales' we shall hear your message immediately and rush to your aid. If, gods forbid such a thing to happen, one of you is near death, it will immediately alert Saphira and I as well as the other one who wears the ring. Finally, as long as the rings are touching your flesh, we will always be able to find one another." Eragon held up his right hand to show Aren, Brom's ring, I put a spell on this ring so it will do the same for me. I will know immediately if you need help, and I hope I will be able to come in time."

"Thank you, we do not care for its appearance but that you have given us the chance to know if one of us is in danger," Katrina said as she looked at the simple band of gold and looked at the faint markings of runes with interest. A soft smile grazing her lips as she looked at Roran lovingly.

Roran took Katrina's ring and slowly put it on her left ring finger, Katrina did the same thing to him. Eragon laughed, "so are you two married now?" he asked jovially seeing the rings acting as wedding rings.

Katrina smiled warmly, "I guess so. Maybe when this is all over we can be married with a ceremony. I will not have you not able to come to our wedding, you of all people deserve to be there."

"Well until then, I pronounce you man and wife." Eragon said jovially. Whereas Roran and Katrina laughed at Eragon's announcement.

"Good luck and stay safe." Eragon told the two with a soft smile before slowly turning to Arya, who had stayed silent for much of the time, allowing Eragon to bond with his family. Roran and Katrina started to walk down the hill in the direction of the Varden.

"I'm going with you. Don't try and fight it, I won't have you gallivanting in the Empire without someone besides Saphira to watch your back." Arya told the Rider, her green eyes gleaming as though challenging Eragon to refuse.

"And what made you think I was going to refuse your offer?" Eragon questioned. Seeing Arya's brow raised in a silent question Eragon continued. "I'm happy that you are going to come with, it'll be like old times." He said warmly, not mentioning that 'old times' meant always running into trouble and having Arya drag him out of said trouble.

Arya smiled, Eragon tried to ignore the butterflies in his stomach but it was useless.

_As I said, love-struck fool._ Saphira said in amusement as she saw the nervousness of her young Rider.

Eragon ignored her as he used his elf speed to quickly climb into Saphira's saddle, he looked down to see Arya walking closer. He held out his hand. "Shall we?" he asked.

Arya grasped his hand and he pulled her up, she sat behind him, her small hands wrapped tightly around Eragon's waist. Eragon couldn't help but relax as the familiar scent of Arya hit him. The smell of crush pine needles, clean rainwater, and thousands of wildflowers mixing together in an intoxicating scent.

_Are you going to tell her about Ronan and Bjartkoü?_ Saphira asked as she launched herself into the air, with a couple of powerful flaps of her mighty wings she was already gaining altitude.

Eragon internally grinned. _Nah, it'll be funny to see her expression. Ronan and Bjartkoü should be on their way back home by now._ Saphira hummed in amusement.

Saphira flew over Roran and Katrina, who waved them goodbye. Soon enough for the lovers Saphira's form slowly started to disappear as they headed further and further north to the Hadarac Desert.

**Seeing as there is a debate going on in my reviews I thought I should answer this, though I gotta admit Rue Bladesinger and the Werewolf Assassin pretty much explained most of it. Though I think I should address this, people have been saying that Ronan is extremely powerful and pretty much invincible… NO HE IS NOT! Sure he is a Rider with a dragon to protect him, but Ronan would easily lose to Eragon in a true fight, he would lose to Murtagh, and he would lose to Arya. But that doesn't mean he isn't strong, he is just what I would expect someone to be. Remember, Ronan has been trained by Eragon nonstop for six months, HALF A YEAR. Eragon only had training in swordmanship with Brom for around that time, and Brom barely taught him anything else besides a couple of spells and how to read. Ronan was already pretty strong, he is the son of a blacksmith so he is pretty broad, and he is like Eragon in personality. Meaning he is a very good student and soaks up information like a sponge. Sure Eragon hasn't technically finished his training in CANON. While my Eragon has a dozen Eldunarì who are more than happy to help train both him and Ronan, they are pretty much the last hope, so of course they would train them. Eragon isn't invincible either, but at least he can give Murtagh a run for his money, but neither Eragon nor Ronan can defeat Galbatorix (I have mentioned that in my story). And when I said he was a good swordmaster I meant that he wouldn't get killed by a common soldier.**

**Also concerning the Eldunarì (this is how they are spelled for those wondering), I understand why people are wondering why Eragon decided to tell Ronan, my answer is this, WHY WOULD HE NOT? I personally think that Oromis dropped the ball in not telling Eragon about the Eldunarì before he left for the Battle of the Burning Plains, Eragon nearly died and would have been captured had not Murtagh given him mercy, so I find it really dumb that Oromis didn't tell him to prepare. This is why Eragon told Ronan, because he needed to know it! I understand that the Riders before them would have forbid it, but they are dead, and it's only Eragon and Ronan left, so that rule doesn't really matter seeing if Eragon were to die, Ronan would have no clue and would easily get captured (He **_**is**_** the only Rider who wouldn't have been aware of Eldunarì had not Eragon told him). Eragon doesn't want to keep anything from his student, especially something so important like that, Ronan needs to know it, what if he ran into a magician with a dozen Eldunarì? He could get captured and Alagaesia is pretty much screwed with Galbatorix having two Riders and dragons at his command, not including Shurikan and himself. And Eragon does technically have the power to break that rule, seeing as he is the Leader of the Riders, despite it only being him, Ronan, and Oromis (who Eragon has not told Ronan about yet).**

**No offense to CP (if you are reading this, which would be awesome, you are one of my favorite authors), but Oromis should have told Eragon about the Eldunarì beforehand, what if Murtagh hadn't given him mercy? He would have been taken to the king and enslaved. Eragon is preparing Ronan for everything that will be thrown at them, and now Ronan has a better chance at survival with a dozen ancient dragons helping him and knowing that the enemy side has even more.**

**For the Sethir Oil, Rue is correct on why I had him keep it. He will need it later on, well someone else will but Eragon hasn't meet him yet (spoiler *****archer*****), and no the person is not a torturer so get that out of your head. Eragon pretty much has nothing, only the resources around him and the Tribes, so he needs everything he can get.**

**The reason Eragon told Sloan about Ronan and Bjartkoü. Sloan can't betray him, he knows his True Name. Sure Galbatorix could break into his mind, but do you really think Eragon is going to let him roam the Empire without keeping an eye on him? And soon enough it won't matter that Sloan knows, here is a spoiler. People **_**will**_** find out about Ronan and Bjartkoü! They will not simply sit on the sidelines, they will be helping and people will know about a new Rider going around. And also Rue no Ronan isn't stronger because Bjartkoü is a white dragon, would be cool though but I didn't think it would be realistic.**

**I'm truly sorry if this isn't realistic for you, I am trying the best as I can. Though to be honest it's a little hard to be realistic when you're writing a story about magic and dragons… and here is a tip on my writing style. When I write something I do two things…. I either tell what's going on straight up or I will hint at something, make you think you know what's going to happen, and prove you wrong. Some things may be mentioned but won't be proven until further into the story, this **_**is**_** the beginning of the story.**

**I'm not mad at anyone who complained, I'm happy that you brought your thoughts to me so I could address them, I hope this clears things up and if not please PM me and I will try to explain more, please note this is Fanfiction and the Canon can be made redundant.**

**Hope you like my portrayal of Arya, I've never written her so I'm probably not great at it, though I've noticed that in the actual book we don't really see that much of her personality so I will try the best to get her character right. I know I didn't add her in the chapter that much but that's because I wanted Eragon to talk to Roran and Katrina seeing as he won't see them for awhile. Don't worry there will be some Eragon/Arya bonding soon enough, I'm not going to have them immediately fall for each other because that's not how they were in the book, but they will get together sooner or latter.**


	17. Not Alone

_I don't like this._ Bjartkoü grumbled inside Ronan's head. His tone disproving on what was happening, as well as worry at any immediate danger his Rider was no doubt about to get into.

If Bjartkoü could see Ronan's face he would have noticed the eye roll, not that he needed to see him as he could tell by his young Rider's thoughts. _Don't worry, Bjartkoü. It's fine. Nothing is going to happen to me. I am in complete control of the situation._

_You are currently stripped of all your weapons and armor, have rope tying yours hands together, currently blindfolded, and are about to meet the leader of one of the most notorious criminal gang in Alagaesia. I have a right to be worried!_ Bjartkoü said, a snarl lacing his tone.

Ronan could sense his other half of his soul and heart currently flying high above the city, high enough where anyone would mistake him as a bird and couldn't find his shielded consciousness. As he was preoccupied trying to calm down his friend he didn't notice himself slowing down and bumped into something.

"Hurry up," the person leading him growled into his ear and shoved him forward. Ronan could hear Bjartkoü growling in his head. _I got this._ Ronan assured the male dragon confidently.

_No you don't!_

_Why do you never have any faith in me?_ Ronan whined childishly to the dragon, upset that Bjartkoü never seemed to really believe he could really take care of himself.

_Ronan, I have known you since the last days of me being inside my egg. When I made you my Rider I knew of your past and who you really were. Not to mention the fact I hear every single of your thoughts, and you _do_ need to be protected._ Bjartkoü stated smugly.

_Why can I never win an argument? Even Eragon-elda can manage to turn the tables on me whenever we have an argument._ Ronan pondered, though he was beginning to get slightly annoyed at being led in what he assumed was a tunnel underground (due to the musty smells) and couldn't see at all.

_Well maybe when the war is over we can sign you up and have you go into politics._ Bjartkoü said sarcastically.

Ronan couldn't reply to the white dragon as he was suddenly aware of the sharp creek of a metal door swinging open, he was promptly pushed, non too gently, forward and could hear the door slam shut as well as the rustle of the bolt and chains, locking him into the room.

_Yes, you completely have the situation under control._ Bjartkoü replied sarcastically.

Ronan didn't reply as the blindfold was suddenly ripped off his head, the bright lights from the flickering torches and candles were bright enough to make the youngest Rider in Alagaesia blink heavily and wince from the sudden light.

When his sight had gone back to normal, Ronan was quick to notice the figure sitting behind a large and ornate desk.

With shoulders broad enough to even make the man give Ronan a run for his money, arms bulging with ripped muscle, and a steel hard gaze that would have made Ronan quiver for his life had he not been the subject of even worse glares by Bjartkoü whenever he did something stupid, the same happening to Eragon with Saphira.

The man before him was tanned, with dark curly black hair as well as a thick beard, the man was surprisingly fit but given his profession if he gained some pounds he would have been killed off by the competition.

But what really got Ronan attention was his eyes, they were the color of hardened steel, and they only seemed to harden even more as the man in front of him inspected Ronan with the air of someone with power. They were the eyes that only gave trust to a very few, one that was always watching out for a knife to the back, the eyes of a hardened veteran.

Ronan felt himself instinctively stand up straighter, this man's whole vibe seemed to scream power and authority.

The man studied Ronan, his soul-searching eyes burning into the Rider, after a couple moments of tense silence the boss finally spoke. "So… you're the new kid that Surt met, and…" he picked up a ruby that color reminded Ronan too much of spilt blood. "You managed to bring me this 'ere beauty." The man leaned back in his chair, "I'm impressed."

"Uh, your welcome?" Ronan said as he scratched the back of his head not knowing what to say. It was his first time ever speaking with the boss of an infamous and deadly gang, so he didn't know whether to have manners or not.

"What's your name, kid?" the leader asked.

Ronan bristled at being called a 'kid', he was sixteen! He was considered a man now, but he wisely chose not to say any brash in front of this dangerous man who he would rather not have the man on his bad side lest he send thugs or assassins after him. "Freohr."

The leader chuckled deeply. "Your real name kid, I doubt your parents would name you 'Shadow' and I also doubt they even know the existence of the Ancient Language. From your posture and appearance I'm assuming that your were born in the lower class, a farmer or blacksmith perhaps?"

"H-How?"

"Let's just say I'm good at judging people, comes with the business." The man brushed aside Ronan's question, "here I'll be the 'nice' one in this little arrangement. My name is Jorgr."

_Tell him your real name, I have a feeling this man will know if you lie._ Bjartkoü said calmly.

"Ronan. My name is Ronan." Ronan introduced himself to Jorgr.

"And why have you come to me and my guild, Ronan?" Jorgr questioned as he slowly stood up from his chair and slowly paced around his desk. "You came to Surt and asked, not for a position in my little family, but rather for information, and judging by your face an alliance?" Jorgr asked with a raised brow.

_Wow, this guy is good._ Bjartkoü muttered in Ronan's head with a small inkling of respect for the man.

Ronan chuckled sheepishly as he scratched the back of his head, "ehehe, I guess you figured it out."

"You want to know what my spies know in both the Varden and the Empire," Jorgr stated. "Both their weaknesses and strengths. How many men they boast, how many horses they ride, what sort of nifty contraptions they use for war. Where the main camp is, where smaller camps are located. I do know this," Jorgr said honestly. "But I'm sure you know that I do not give out such information freely to strangers. Not unless I want my throat sliced in my sleep."

"I have obviously earned enough trust and respect to be taken to you, the leader of this guild and all of its spies," Ronan argued. "I doubt you ordered me here to boast of your information network and decline any deals from someone wishing to learn a little more in the world."

Jorgr snorted. "Don't play daft with me, boy. Don't pretend you are just some schoolboy trying to understand the world around him, I see that look in your eye. There is something bigger than what you've told me or Surt, you wanting to know about both the Rebel and Empire forces just makes it even more obvious." He leaned forward and studied Ronan. "The question is, what are you hiding and what you want?"

Ronan laughed. "I see why you're the best of your trade," the newest Rider complimented. "You're right, I'm hiding something. A lot of things actually," Ronan confessed. "But they are things that will be revealed in good time, I'm not really allowed to say everything even I wanted to tell you."

_Eragon-elda and Saphira-elda would skin me alive if I told someone I was a Rider, though I'm pretty sure that even if I told someone they would just laugh and call me a liar._ The sixteen year old thought in amusement knowing full well that would probably happen if Bjartkoü didn't appear.

Jorgr merely raised a brow at Ronan's statement before grinning wryly. "Your mentor must be an interesting man, to be able to make you so mysterious and calm. Most boys your age would have boasted about it so loud I bet the King would of heard, not to mention try and attack me if I insult them when I'm really just trying to figure out their character."

The man reached for a drawer and pulled something out, Ronan instinctively tensed in case it was a weapon. Jorgr noticed this in the corner of his eye but said nothing, in his hand was a scroll.

The leader of the criminal gang unrolled the scroll on top of his desk, showing a map of Alagaesia and the cities and towns it boasted. The most notable and interesting part was the highlighted and circled areas on the map, much like Eragon-elda's Eldunarí map but instead Ronan saw both the main armies of the Varden and the Empire.

"This map shows where the main bodies of both counterparts are, I have some others with the patrol patterns of certain cities as well as camp locations… but I won't give that to you, not yet at least," Jorgr confessed as he rolled up the map and gave it to the Rider. "Consider this gift to your mentor as a sign of good faith. You got us the gem and we gave you this map. Continue to help us and we may help you further, but I warn you. Don't try and backstab me, it'll be the last thing you do." Jorgr held out his hand to shake it.

Ronan immediately realized that this was the first time Jorgr had offered him his hand, in this world and in his trade it was well too easy for someone to prick a man in an important vein with a deadly poison. To have the offer to shake his hand was as big a sign of good faith as the map. Ronan shook the man's hand strongly. "You will not regret this," Ronan assured the man. "I know my master will love to see this, as well as a proposition of us working together in the future."

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"Ahaha! It worked!" Ronan crowed in glee as Bjartkoü's mighty wings flapped in the strong current. "Eragon-elda is going to be so excited! We now know where the main camp is!"

_It wasn't exactly that hard to find them, a quick fly by and we would of noticed such a large host of humans, though at least we now know their numbers._ Bjartkoü rumbled out.

Ronan patted the dragon's head with a smile. _Don't be a buzz kill Bjartkoü. Admit it, I handled that perfectly. Guess Eragon's teachings on patience actually paid off. I'm not a 'kid', I'm a grown man._

_Yet you still act like a child,_ Bjartkoü said in amusement while his host complained that was not the case.

The two were soon in a comfortable silence, the only sound was the wing beats of Bjartkoü's mighty white wings and the wind streaming pass them. Finally Ronan asked a question they were all thinking. _How do you think Eragon-elda and Saphira-elda did against the Ra'zac? You think they're alright?_ Ronan asked concerned for his friend and mentor.

Bjartkoü puffed out smoke from his nostrils while he thought of his Rider's question, finally he answered. _Yes, they will be fine. Don't forget that Eragon has the speed and strength of an elf, the might and magic of the dragons, and his own cunning and wit. With all those attributes he is a fine opponent against the Ra'zac. While Saphira has always beaten me in fights, not to mention she is bigger than me and able to control her fire better than I, who is less experienced. They will not fail._ The great white dragon said confidently, his faith in their mentors and fellow dragon and Rider flowing through their connection, quickly erasing any doubts from Ronan's mind.

_Yeah, you're right._ Ronan smiled as he looked north where he could see the faint outline of the Hadarac Desert.

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"For the past six months, you've been hiding in the desert? I must admit that was a good idea, no one has complete control of these dunes, the closest are the Wandering Tribes but they would not wish to attack a Rider and dragon," Arya commented as she glanced around at the caves Eragon had been calling his home.

Eragon was idly scratching one of the Shrrg ears, the grey furred one growled in pleasure while his pack mates were staring at the newest arrival with curiosity.

"Don't worry about the Tribes, I made an deal with them," Eragon explained.

Even with such a casual and somewhat vague answer, Arya, who knew Eragon so well and could read his emotions like a book and probably didn'y even need magic to understand what was going through that head of his, understood immediately what he meant, whether Eragon had actually meant to tell her that small piece of detail. "…You're building an army," Arya said softly. Her brilliant jade eyes seemed to glow in the darkening cave, the sun setting behind her giving the pale elf a somewhat ethereal appearance.

Eragon was silent for a moment, before he finally answered. "Yes, I am." He looked away, unsure if Arya would approve of his motives. It had been so long since he had seen the beautiful woman, he had no clue if she would approve of him gathering a force of his own. He was bitterly reminded that in the eyes of her brethren and maybe even her, he was nothing but a child. Even though he was a man in his culture, in the eyes of the elves he was nothing more than a toddler trying to follow their parents around. Arya was born a year before the Fall had happened, if elves had children as much as humans than her grandchildren could easily be his age or older.

"Eragon," Arya said softly. When had she gotten so close to him? How had he not noticed? A soft pale hand was rested on his shoulder, Arya was looking at him with concern and somewhere in the green orbs… understanding?

"I understand why you are doing this, Eragon." She said softly, any if not all of her icy exterior had seemed to have evaporated like dew in the Hadarac sunlight. "You were alone with only Saphira to help you… I should have been with you as well as Orik. But I'm here now, I may not know all the details of what you've done but I promise you that I will happen. You aren't alone, Eragon."

Silence. Then Eragon's face split into a wry grin. "You should have become a politician, Arya. You have a way with words that not even Oromis could have."

Arya gave him a small smile, just an upwards twitch of her perfect lips. For Arya that was like an emotional outburst. "In case you never notice, Eragon, but I'm more of a fighter than a talker… I don't do feelings."

_But only because your feelings have hurt and scarred you in more ways than possible._ Eragon thought somberly, remembering everything the woman in front of him had gone through. Escorting Saphia's egg to different worlds, one of humans and the other of elves. She had become an outcast, an alien within the Varden where she was different from the common man and woman. When she went back home she stayed away from contact with her elven brethren, focusing more on her position as an escort to one of the last dragon eggs than on being a princess amongst elves.

Eragon wondered if he had been in her place, trapped between two different worlds and having both ripped from you when Durza captured you and killed your comrades and your lover… being tortured by the most merciless and malevolent of monsters yet never wavering, never breaking. What would of happened? Would he have been broken by Durza? Lost all hope for survival and escape? What would he have done had he been alone as Arya had been. What if the positions had been reversed and he had been like Arya and he had been her Fäolin? What if Arya had died and he captured? Would he have broken under the grief of the lost of the love of his life and his close comrades? Or would he have been like Arya, with her head held high, refusing to become one of Galbatorix's pawns. She had saved them, all of them. By refusing to tell where she had sent the egg, she had refused Galbatorix. Had she told him, he would of never become a Rider, and if he had he would have been bound to Galbatorix as an immortal slave and servant. She had given the world a chance for freedom and peace, a world with peace and freedom was what he fought for, maybe he did it for her. Out of everyone he had meet, from the most grizzled and scarred warriors and oily politicians who both preached the same thing as him, Arya was the sole person who deserved it.

She was as much a savior as him, maybe even more. The people looked at Eragon as though he was a blessing sent to them by divine intervention, but he would have not been blessed with the power to topple Galbatorix had Arya broke. She was his savior, and he would do anything to keep her safe. Not only did he love her with all his being, but he owed her more than he could ever pay. She had given everyone a chance, if he won this bloody war and ended Galbatorix's war than it wouldn't have been because of him. No…

It would have been because of Arya.

Eragon moved closer, he didn't realize how close he was until that moment. He could see every eyelash, every brilliant pattern of her iris. It was as though a green inferno had been released within them, blazing with determination and a passion to end this war, to free both their races.

Eragon didn't try to kiss her, he instead pulled her into a hug. It wasn't one of passion but of need. It was gentle and friendly, a certain need of companionship was what defined the hug. He didn't want to be alone anymore, he never wanted to be alone. Not now and not ever.

Arya had tensed like a coil when he moved closer, thinking he was trying to kiss her. But when he instead hugged her, her shock and surprise made her relax. With a small sight of what he hoped was contentment, Arya seemed to relax within his grip, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him closer. There was no romance about the hug, merely two lost and torn souls finding one another and finding comfort within them.

For a minute or so there merely embraced one another, Eragon resting his head on top of Arya's black curls while Arya nestled her face into the crook of his neck, for one wild second he thought he saw something wet and glittering fall from her eyes and trail down her cheek. He would have claimed it was the desert heat getting to him and addling his brain but he was certain he could feel a small drop of moisture on his neck.

His eyes had been getting misty as well, he quickly blinked and made sure he wouldn't cry, either in sadness or joy, he had to be strong for Arya, for Saphira, for Ronan, and for Bjartkoü. He knew that he tried to be the calm and patient teacher to the two new additions to the Riders, but inside he had his own amount of grief and anger. And for the first time he finally let it out.

It was only when they heard Saphira land did the two break apart, Saphira stuck in her blue snout and looked at the two with barely concealed amusement. _I hope I'm not interrupting anything_, the blue dragoness teased her Rider who had the decency to blush slightly. _But I thought I should tell you that Ronan and Bjartkoü will be here any minute now._

With that said and done, Saphira retracted her snout and opted to continue basking in the desert heat humming slightly in contentment, either for the warmth or that her little one may actually have a chance with Arya.

"What did Saphira say to you?" Arya asked, a raised brow forming on her perfect features.

Eragon couldn't help but grin, every since Arya had joined their group he had been looking forward towards this meeting between his pupils. He knew that Arya would be overjoyed to find out that another Rider lived, maybe give her some more hope that peace could be accomplished.

"My students," He explained vaguely, taking no small amount of amusement when Arya furrowed her brow, silently demanding an explanation. "Why don't I just show you? I think you'll be most surprised." With that said and done, Eragon walked out of the cave, the Shrrg hot on his heels. Perhaps they smelled Ronan, who they had bonded to since he had saved their lives and wanted to see them.

He stopped at the ledge, the Hadarac Desert spread all around him, he could see out of the corner of his eye that Arya stood beside him, her eyes set on the horizon, sensing the faint signal of two powerful magical auras.

"Eragon, who?" She trailed off when she heard it with her enhanced hearing.

_Thud._

_Thud._

_Thud._

_Thud._

There was a great roar that echoed throughout the Hadarac Desert, small mammals screeching in alarm and bolting for safety. Saphira let loose her own roar that rivaled the other. And then the three could see the faint shape of Bjartkoü flying towards them at a breakneck speed.

When Arya realized who Eragon had said where his students, meaning another dragon and a Rider, she fell to her knees in shock and awe. Her brilliant green eyes never leaving the rapidly approaching Bjartkoü, her mouth was opened slightly, before she smiled, the largest smile Eragon and Saphira had ever said. A peal of laughter and joy rang throughout the cave, surprising the Rider and dragon. They had only heard Arya laugh once, back when they had reached the home of the elves and she had greeted many old faces and those of her kin.

She stared unblinkingly as she watched the white dragon land next to Saphira, while the dragon was smaller than Saphira, showing that he was younger, she noticed things that were different. How the dragon was more muscular in the throat and legs. _A male._ She realized through her joy.

"The Riders live on…" She said softly as she saw a young boy hop off the saddle and greet Saphira. She glanced at Eragon, a soft curl of the lips showing her smile. "You really aren't' alone anymore, are you Eragon?"

Eragon smiled at the elf, the one who had saved him and possibly the whole world, the love of his life and answered truthfully and straight from the heart. "No. I'm not alone. Not anymore."

**Sorry about the long wait guys, I hit a bit of a road block with this chapter mostly because I was trying to make sure everyone was in character, and for those saying that since Arya sorta cried that makes her weak. No that's not it, Arya is in my opinion one of the most badass characters in the books, second after Saphira or Oromis. I feel like in the books she's like a rock, completely emotionless but I think that she should have let out some of those emotions and it did give Eragon and Arya some good bonding time even if it wasn't romantic, that's for later chapters. I hope you enjoy this chapter and please review, seeing as those are my inspiration to continue writing this story. And if any of you have any suggestions or ideas for this story, please say them. I have the basic outline for my story already decided upon, but I'd like some more filler so its not like the next chapter is the war and its over. I'm not saying I'm going to drag it out like **_**Inheritance**_** but I want you guys to experience more of my idea of the **_**Inheritance Cycle**_** and my characters for this story.**

**Next chapter. Arya meets Ronan and Bjartkoü. We all find out where Eragon has decided for the permanent base for the Riders. Maybe some Saphira and Bjartkoü bonding. The Shrrg finally get a role in this story. And you find out how they are going to recruit people to their cause.**


	18. A New Home

"So _you're_ Arya!" Ronan exclaimed as he slid down Bjartkoü's slick scales before walking over to the elf, a large grin on the young teen's face as he finally met his mentor and master's infatuation himself. "Master Eragon has told me a lot about you!" He added slyly where his grin grew when he saw the dark look Eragon shot at him from behind Arya's back.

Ronan then remembered his courtesies, while he normally didn't do those things (he was still a teenager and his respect had to be earned), from what Eragon and Saphira had told him and Bjartkoü about the elf she definitely deserved his respect. He then quickly greeted her in the Ancient Language, making sure to get the bow right.

Arya smiled before doing the same. When she got back up here eyes seemed to widen slightly at the sight of Bjartkoü, who had walked over to stand besides his Rider, his white scales gleaming gold in the sun's setting rays.

Suddenly Ronan was lost in a blur of color and fur, the Shrrg had seen the youngest Rider and had immediately pounced on him as though he were another pack mate. Bjartkoü rumbled in good humor as he saw his Rider struggle to get out of the pile of growing Shrrg, they were getting bigger and having six of them was probably crushing the teen. He instead ignored the mental pleas of his Rider begging for aid and instead nuzzled Saphira, who tenderly nuzzled him back.

"_Another Rider and dragon,"_ Arya muttered to herself in the Ancient Language, her feline eyes never wavering as she looked at the young dragon and his young Rider. _"It is a true miracle."_

"_Divine intervention?"_ Eragon teased her. Knowing full well that she, like her elven brothers and sisters, did not believe in the gods. They did not believe in the dwarven gods nor the human gods, instead they merely focused on the facts of how life could have been created without the help of an all-knowing immortal being working behind the sight of men, dwarves, elves, and all the other intelligent beings that walked the lands of Alagaesia.

"_More of a lucky coincidence, or perhaps something else…"_ Arya trailed off as she pondered whatever thought was going through her head. When she saw Eragon's raised brow she finally dryly said one word, but a strong and powerful word. _"Wryda."_

Eragon's eyes widened at that, he suddenly remembered Blagden, the stark white raven that often accompanied Queen Islanzadí, Arya's mother and the Queen of the Elven Kingdom. When he had saved Arya's father, King Evandar, from certain death while fighting an Urgal. The then alive King had blessed the then black raven with long life, intelligence, and some unintended side effects. One being all the color seemingly bleached out of his dark feathers, leaving him as colorless as fresh snow. The other was the uncanny insight of the future, but always obscured with riddles that would even give Saphira a headache.

He himself had his future told by Blagden, though he would have preferred the pesky raven to stay out of his future. But that didn't stop him from remembering the riddle that still didn't fully make sense to the Rider.

_By beak and bone._

_Mine blackened by stone._

_Sees rooks and crooks._

_And bloody brooks!_

_Son and father alike._

_Both as blind as bats._

_While two may share two._

_And one of two is certainly one._

_One might be two._

The first four verses now made sense to Eragon, who now had the gift of hindsight, which he had wished he had before that battle that had forever changed his life and the lives of those around him.

Blagden had been talking about the Battle of the Burning Plains. He remembered vividly the great Jiet River, its darky murky water replaced with the crimson red of freshly cut blood from both armies fighting. He remembered the birds circling high above, vultures and crows, rooks and ravens. All of the scavengers waiting for the bloodshed to end, so that they could feast upon those that had fallen.

The next two verses, _Son and father alike. Both as blind as bats,_ that he did not have the good fortune of understanding. Whenever he thought back on those two sentences, merely nine words in total, his stomach would clench and churn as though he was about to vomit or maybe break down.

_Son and father alike. Father and Son. Eragon and Morzan. Eragon Morzanson._ That was who he was, but was it the blood that he shared with the betrayer that strong to change him? To make him into the next Morzan?

Morzan, his _father_, was a legend of both infamous and monstrous standards. He was the first of the Forsworn, because of his father's misdeeds the Riders of Old had fallen and with it the Golden Age of Alagaesia, plunging it into an age of darkness and despair.

Eragon had been raised on the tales of Morzan, those that Brom had told were always focused on the negative and true qualities and characteristics of his father, the monster who betrayed the very Order that had taken him in and trained him.

The only good tales of Morzan were of course from the government officials and the Empire fanatics who believed that what Galbatorix and the Forsworn were doing were for the good of all. They portrayed him as a knight in shining armor instead of a murderer covered in the blood of innocents. A noble hero instead of the dark villain. A proud Rider serving justice, instead of an Egg-breaker and Oath-breaker. A betrayer not worthy of being called a Rider in the slightest.

Was that who Eragon was destined to be? Was he so alike to Morzan that he would turn as evil as him? It scared and terrified him, was blood that thick? Could it really change Eragon the farm boy turned Rider into the next generation of the Forsworn?

Was the _blind as bats_ part of the verse talking about how he refused to see any connections to Morzan? How he refused to see it, opting for blindness instead of clarity. Would that lead to his downfall? Some said that arrogance had lead Morzan to his death, would the same fate befall his youngest son? That, Eragon knew not.

Eragon suddenly grew worried, asides from himself and Saphira nobody knew of the rebel Rider's dark parentage. Of the father that had destroyed the peace that had once sheltered this war torn world. What would Arya think? What would Ronan and Bjartkoü think? Would his parentage ruin his image of his students and the love of his immortal life?

The last and final verse was even more confusing than the others._ While two may share two. And one of two is certainly one. One might be two._ What in the gods name did that even mean?

For one wild second, it could have been the glaring heat of the desert sun burning into him or maybe just the stress of being a free Rider and rebel, but he could of sworn that the entire desert seemed to have gone silent, a slight chill clinging to the air that sent the hairs on the back of Eragon's neck standing. He could have sworn he could hear the raucous caw of Blagden's croaky voice. _"Wyrda! Wyrda! Wyrda!"_

"Eragon?"

And just as fast as the illusion had overcome him, it was shattered when Arya's hand found its way on his shoulder, her brilliant green eyes staring into his brown with a look of concern.

With a small blush Eragon realized that his ponders of his parentage and future must have been longer than he had expected, even Ronan and Bjartkoü were looking at their mentor and friend with concern in their eyes. Only Saphira didn't look concerned as she was the only one privy to the tangled and rapid thoughts going on in his head. Her sorrow seemingly going into their connection and for one second Eragon thought he felt another emotion hidden deep within the sorrow, knowledge perhaps?

Before Eragon could check again to see if he was right he realized he should probably reply to Arya, least they thought he had been in the sun too much and was beginning to become delirious.

"Perhaps you're right, Arya. Maybe it was _wyrda_ that brought us all together." Eragon said as he wondered off all the coincidences, as well as the fact of the dreams that had plagued him about the death of Bjartkoü's parents and where his egg had been buried, hidden from even the prying mind Galbatorix and the Forsworn, who had spent countless decades trying to retrieve any surviving dragon eggs and to add to the collection of the three eggs. Why had he been given the vision of Bjartkoü's location when Galbatorix had been looking under every stone, nook and cranny, in the hopes of bringing another dragon under his control. But the white egg had remained hidden from everyone.

Hidden from his father.

The thought brought a rather bitter taste to his mouth.

Ronan, who had finally managed to untangle himself from pups, was sitting on the ground petting the Shrrg. He clapped his hands together in a decisive manner. "Sooo, group meeting?"

Eragon chuckled and nodded his head towards his pupil, "Aye. Group meeting."

* * *

><p>The human, elf, half elf human hybrid, and the two dragons were sitting comfortably in the largest cave the mountains had to offer. Eragon, Ronan, and Arya were seated around a large slab of sandstone that protruded from the carven, making it a makeshift table. Using magic the two had smoothed it down to perfection, now they could move and slid delicate maps and papers around to one another without the worries of tearing.<p>

Saphira and Bjartkoü were lying side by side, both of their Riders were quick to notice that their tails were intertwined with the other. Sapphire blue placed against stark white. The two Riders mentally grinned and cheered, seeing that their companions and half of their heart and souls were finally falling in love with one another.

Even Arya, who had never before seen Bjartkoü, couldn't help but smile at the look of peace and happiness that seemed to shine from Saphira. She could remember back when Eragon and Saphira had just arrived in her homeland, how alone Saphira felt being one of the last of her kind, afraid to never have a mate and instead to be alone for eternity. But it appears that wouldn't be the case for the majestic sapphire blue dragoness, she had found companionship with Bjartkoü. And Bjartkoü had found companionship with Saphira.

On the table was the map Murtagh had given to them, with a nifty spell Eragon had enlarged the map so that its tips nearly touched the corners of the table, allowing the young rebels the ability to see even the smallest of printed names and dots that signified important locations in Alagaësia.

Arya looked at the map, or more specifically the markings, with a pursed lip. One of her eyebrows slightly slanted downwards as she inspected the map, Eragon reminded himself he had to tell Arya about the Eldunarí. While the secret of a dragon's heart of hearts was forbidden to be told to anyone who was not a Rider back in the old days, now in the present era Eragon had no qualms with telling the elven princess, she deserved to know as well. In their group, nobody should be left out on priceless information that could possibly save the world, or just as quickly end it, so Eragon would tell his closest friend when this meeting was over.

It also helped that he _was_ the Leader of the Dragon Riders, so he did have the power and authority to tell anyone he wanted to about Galbatorix's dark secret of power.

"As you two already know, we have gained the alliance of many Tribes, with their wealth we have the advantage that the Varden no longer has and it's dwindling down to the last coin." Eragon started at the head of the table, Arya at his right hand side while Ronan sat at his left hand side. "Though knowing Nasuada she will probably find a way to bring back the gold to pay her soldiers, her advisors and fellow leaders may be idiots, but she isn't. At the moment the Varden only have alliances with three Tribes, two of them are some of the most poor and are not much of a big deal, but the other is very wealthy. The question is, how much are they willing to give to the Varden?"

Arya glanced at the map, she leaned over and put her index on the lower part of the map. "The Varden have successfully taken Aroughs. Roran had a large role in the defeat, because of him and his men it was possible. Since they are now Riderless and outnumbered two to zero, they have been holed up in the city and surviving off of the supplies that had already been there. Since it is so close to the ocean they have an unlimited supply to the ocean, and thus its fish and other resources. And with Aroughs having been abandoned by many due to the close range of Surda they have enough room to house their armies with little to no difficulty. And since they are so close to Surda they have the trade routes between the city and the country opened due to there no longer being any Empire troops left in the southern parts. Most have retreated to Feinster." As she said this the city of Aroughs turned purple as did the country of Surda, which represented the Varden's control.

Ronan frowned, "And why hasn't the king done anything to take back the city? Hasn't he ordered his men to take it back?" The White Rider asked the elf, his dark eyebrows scrunched in confusion. "Doesn't Galbatorix care about his cities? Well probably not the people… But every king never wants to lose land, especially to a rebellion none the least." Ronan relented knowing that the Mad King didn't care for his subjects in the slightest.

Ronan had been raised in a poor village that was barely on the map, during the harsh winters where food and warmth was scarce. And as always their plea of help fell upon deaf ears. Ronan had lost many friends and family due to the King and the fact he didn't care, either from famine, disease, freezing winters, or lack of food.

Arya and Eragon nodded their heads in agreement, but seeing as they had been in war much longer than Ronan had they could tell the difference with a force the leader had little concern for, it was just that. Galbatorix just didn't care.

Arya pointed at the swamps that were located north of Aroughs, it was the same swamp Eragon had met Murtagh shortly after the Battle of the Burning Plains and the Varden's subsequent betrayal. "One of the advantages the Varden has are these swamps, they surround Aroughs like a barrier. Large parties of soldiers cant get their way through, their heavy armor and weapons could easily make them sink into the bog, never to be seen again." She glanced at Ronan and Eragon, "It is considered to be the Aroughsian version of the Spine." She told the two Riders who had grown up and often journeyed and hunted within the infamous forest.

_So for the time being, the Varden needn't fear attack from the Empire,_ Bjartkoü said out loud so that all could hear him. His voice surprising Arya, who had yet to hear the young male dragon speak. _Unless our kin Thorn and Murtagh are ordered to attack Aroughs._ He said, his lips curling into a snarl at the mere thought of his fellow dragon and egg-mate being used as though he was a simple beast, a hound of war, as though the dragon were merely a dog and went where ever his master pointed.

Arya blinked several times, then she abruptly stood up from her seat, her hands slamming on the stone table while cracks appeared like a spider web when she applied a lot of pressure to the table. "_Murtagh_ is the Red Rider!?" she all but yelled to the heavens, or the stars in the elven culture.

Ronan glanced at Eragon who looked just as confused as he was. "You didn't know that?" The youngest Rider asked surprised evident in his hazel eyes.

Arya's eye twitched ever so slightly as she glared at the male Riders sitting with her, her green eyes had suddenly turned into an inferno of green. "No." She said through gritted teeth. "I did not know that." She slumped into her makeshift chair, even that movement still had the grace of something feline. "We, or I guess I should say the Varden. We don't have a clue as to who the Red Rider is, you were the only one to confront him and live, Eragon." Her pale face turned even more pale. "Murtagh is the Rider…" She whispered in disbelief. "But I was there with you, when Ajihad was ambushed and the Twins and Murtagh taken by Urgals. I was the one to venture into the tunnels in search of them, I found Murtagh's armor littering the cliffs of an abyss… I had thought him dead, but he isn't." She shook her head before chuckling, but it was hollow and bitter. "Life has a funny way of changing and flipping things, no?"

Her eyes saddened as she remembered Murtagh who had rescued Eragon and herself from Gil'ead, he had been a comrade, a brother in arms, but now he was enslaved by the very thing that gave him power, magic. "I wonder what Nasuada would have thought of this information." She said which Eragon understood. It was obvious that back during their stay in Fathern Dûr that Murtagh had a soft spot for the dark-skinned beauty, a feeling that was shared the same with Nasuada.

"I see, I guess I forgot to tell anyone who the Rider was, I _was_ trying to see without being seen," Eragon said softly, he then looked at the love of his life with determination set within his brown obs. "We'll free them, Arya. I promise you that, one way or another I _will_ free them."

Arya nodded, a Rider and dragon under the iron fist of King Galbatorix sounded like the worst type of hell, and seeing as she knew Murtagh before his incarceration and had come to respect the young human for his loyalty, courage in battle, as well as his skills in the art of combat. "I'll help you as well," Her lip curled slightly in a soft smile, "After all, like you said before, someone has to pull you out of trouble."

Ronan burst into laughter, his chest heaving as he struggled to breathe properly. "Ahaha, that's so ironic!" He crowed as he leaned backwards, "That's what Eragon-elda would always say when I wanted to go on a journey. He always says that I have a knack for finding myself in bad situations. Glad to know that it happens to him as well!" He chortled while Eragon rolled his eyes at his pupil.

"Before my pupil here has a heart attack, I have two things we need to discus." Eragon gestured towards the table, using his magic to make certain routes and roads in the Empire glow blue. "If we are to make an army there is one thing we need."

"An army, perhaps?" Ronan asked sarcastically as he looked at the map with a scrunched face, they looked like trade routes to the former blacksmith apprentice.

Eragon ignored his students sarcasm and instead gestured towards the map, "A army always starts with a single individual. While we have the Tribes to call upon for aid, they do not know the Empire like Ronan and I, we _were_ born there after all. Not to mention that the Tribes numbers have dwindled over the years, the best we have is two to three platoons. That would only help us take on a small camp, we wouldn't even be able to take over a controlled town if not for us being Riders as well as magicians. Which is where I've come to the conclusion on how to have men, loyal men mind you, join us." Eragon leaned forward, his hands clasped and his lip pursed as he looked at the blue lines. "We free them."

Arya's eyes widened slightly as she realized what he meant. It was so simple, but brilliant. "Those are slave routes." She declared as she looked at the pale blue lines that connected the cities of the Empire like an intricate spider web.

Eragon nodded his head. "When Ronan went to meet the Kuro Hasu (1) I had him ask their leader Jorgr for a map containing the routes of the slave traders and their cargo, slaves. Needless to say I got it, and this presents us two opportunities." He held out his hand and counted off one finger, "The first is that we build an army upon the freedom of slaves, willing that they join us of course, and I'm sure they would be loyal to the ones who freed them from a life of slavery and hardship… the second is what I consider the most important." Eragon trailed off as he looked at the map, his eyes glazed slightly as he was lost in his memories.

"And that is?" Ronan asked his mentor with a raised brow.

"We save lives," Eragon said softly. "Lives that were ruined by Galbatorix's rule of terror, we can rebuild it, make it better. I never told you this Ronan, but there is one thing under Galbatorix that I loath. Slavers… When I had just become a Rider and was heading to Farthen Dûr, my party and I ran into a group of slavers." His hands tightened into fists. "They didn't care that with each person they captured they had sentenced to a life on cruelty and pain. They laughed and cheered when they found us," Eragon's face tightened. "Though that soon changed when Saphira showed herself, Murtagh killed their leader in cold blood… I often wondered why he did it. But I think I understand, if only slightly. Had Tokenbrand lived, would he have tried to redeem himself? No, he wouldn't. He would've continued to destroy lives, enslaved them. I don't approve of what he did, but I can't condemn Murtagh for what he had done, he may have saved more lives from slavery for all I know."

It was silent for a moment before Ronan spoke. "If we begin to build our army, we need to relocate. These mountains are fine for us since Saphira and Bjartkoü can fly us over the desert, but a large group of people couldn't cross these dunes. Much less in armor and loaded down with supplies and weapons, they'd bake in the heat and it would take thousands of flights to carry them all here. These caves were for the dragons, not people. An army can't be here."

Eragon grinned, a small smirk playing at his lips as he looked at his only student who suddenly had a feeling that Eragon knew something that neither he nor Bjartkoü knew about.

"And who says that our base of operations will be in these desolate mountains?" Eragon asked his student, a wide grin forming as his brown eyes seemed to alight with mischief as he knew he knew something important that Ronan didn't know about. "As soon as this meeting is over and I consult with the Tribes that have aligned with us, we're going to leave these mountains and set up our permanent hideout that will be more than enough room for two dragons and an army."

"Du Weldenvarden?" Ronan asked eagerly, seeing as the newest Rider had never been to the forest that the elves dwelled within. All he knew about the place was from tales told by storytellers and of course Eragon and Saphira.

"No."

Ronan deflated a bit, "But then where are we going to live?" The young teen asked confused. "There is no other place to hide."

Eragon arched a brow, "Oh? Are you sure about that?" Eragon gestured towards the map of Alagaesia. "There are many places we can be without the thought of the Varden and perhaps even the Empire trying to track us down. I learned something from my teacher, something I've taken to heart. Sometimes the best hiding places are the most obvious." Eragon grinned again, "And that is why I know where to go, a place that the Empire wont think to look and a place the Varden wont even dare or attempt to look as well."

Eragon knew that Arya would have immediately figured it out, and he was right as realization flashed through the elf's cat-like eyes. "The Empire." She breathed out as she looked at the largest country in the world of Alagaesia. "We're going into the Empire."

Eragon nodded, "And not just the Empire. But near the heart of the Empire, in fact."

It was then that the Blue Rider pointed in the north western tip of the charted lands of Alagaësia, near the villages where both Ronan and Eragon had been born. He pointed at the largest and most famous mountain in the spine, one that overlooked the whole forest and could be seen from Therinsford despite the distance.

The mountain was a place of both pride and sorrow. A once great tower had stood like a sentinel for the Riders of old, an old outpost that had once been a sight to see but was now a ruin. Some considered that mountain to be the place where the war of Galbatorix and his Forsworn against the Riders had ended, where Galbatorix finally became King of what was made into the Empire today.

The tower itself used to be called Edoc'sil, Unconquerable, due to the fact that nobody aside from a Rider or those with a flying mount could reach the steep summit.

Edoc'sil was the final battleground. The final battle between the Mad Galbatorix and the Leader of the Riders, Vrael. Good versus Evil. Light versus Darkness. It was there that Vrael was defeated and the world then belonged to Galbatorix. The tower was then called by the remaining Riders simply as Ristvak'baen, the Place of Sorrow.

But the commoners called it by a different name, one more common than the names detailed with the Ancient Language.

"Utgard?" Ronan asked in disbelief.

"Aye, Utgard."

Ronan's eyes were furrowed slightly, "But it's a mountain." He said bluntly as he remembered the giant mountain from his adventures back when he was just a simple blacksmith's son in Ursür, while gigantic in size and could possibly rival one of the smaller mountains of the Beor Mountains the tower itself probably could only host themselves and their dragons, not an army.

Eragon hummed in agreement, his index finger still pressed to the small letters emblazoned _Utgard._ "It is now," he said vaguely. He thought of his plans, plans he had not thought possible until he had found out about the Eldunarí

Arya sighed ever so slightly, "Why do I have the feeling you're keeping something from us, something important and possibly life changing?" The elven princess asked the Rider with a slightly annoyed scowl set upon her pale features.

Eragon smirked slightly, thoroughly enjoying the fact that everyone including Saphira was left in the dark, it was fun when it wasn't him who was looking for the answers. Maybe he should do this more often…

"I've been planning this for a long time, before I met you Ronan." Eragon said while the other said Rider's eyes widened as he realized that whatever this was, Eragon had been planning this for a long time, and seeing as even Saphira looked like she didn't know what her Rider was saying and the fact that Uznov had not said anything even relating to the towering mountain, Eragon must have kept this in the far corners of his mind.

"I'm really confused," the teenager declared as he stared at the map as though hoping that the answer would reveal itself via through the parchment, sadly for him nothing happened. "Are we going to live on Utgard?"

"No, Ronan." Eragon's grin seemed to get even bigger and wider, "We're going to live _in_ Utgard." He pointed at the Beor Mountains and the uncharted lands where the dwarves lived in their underground cities, "We're going to tunnel into the very mountain itself."

(1) The name of the Guild.

* * *

><p><strong>Ancient Language.<strong>

Wryda – Fate

Kuro Hasu – Black Lotus

Edoc'sil - Unconquerable

Ristvak'baen – Place of Sorrow.

* * *

><p><strong>Interesting side note, <strong>_**this**_** was the actual origin of this story. Eragon and Saphira living in Utgard like a little Farthen Dür, I did leave a hint a couple chapters back. Funny how things can turn bigger and longer, eh?**

**I felt like this would be the best place to stop it, (I **_**do**_** love cliffhangers, seeing as they happen to me all the time). Next chapter will feature the Shrrg, the actual journey to Utgard and maybe how they're actually going to live there, and Sloan (Was I the only one who accidently forgot about him? I was reading an early chapter when Eragon fought the Ra'zac and I was like 'Oh, yeah. Sloan's with Eragon and I completely forgot about that').**

**My bad?**

**As a small note, in case people are wondering why I have Ronan act rather childish at some points in the story, he **_**is**_** a teenager and he is also a bit of a comic relief so my story won't be really dark and somewhat grim to some readers, we all need the comic relief and Ronan seems to fit the bill.**

**Also kudos to anyone who gets the name Black Lotus, anyone who thinks they get where I got the name from leave it in the review. Don't be afraid with leaving a review, they are the main reason why I update this, so don't be shy!**


	19. No Longer

"So, who is this guy again?" Ronan couldn't help but ask the older teenager with a raised brow, both Riders were currently in one of the smaller caves barely able for a five month dragon to live in on one of the smaller mountains that were considered to be Du Fells Nágoröth

"I can hear you, you know?" Sloan spat in Ronan and Eragon's location.

Even though Eragon had healed all of his wounds, both internal and external, Sloan still had the air of a sick man. Compared to the old Sloan Eragon knew, this Sloan was a stick and looked as though he couldn't lift anything besides his own weight. It was pitiful to say the least, had Sloan not been Sloan of course.

"My uncle in law." Eragon explained to his student. "Sloan Aldenson, former butcher and resident of Carvahall."

"Is he trustworthy?" Ronan asked suspiciously, something about the man made the youngest of the Riders uncomfortable and his hand itching towards his weapon. Perhaps it was the fact that he was a wildcard, Ronan knew nothing of this man other than that he was somehow related to Eragon, Eragon didn't like him, and that Eragon knew his True Name.

He couldn't help but wonder what it was, the simple fact of Eragon now having absolute control of anyone, even this man who set his teeth on edge, was rather odd. It deeply disturbed the teenager that a simple set of words in the Ancient Language could bind you more than any oaths of fealty or loyalty.

"He is now." Eragon said as he was right. As long as Sloan's True Name didn't change, then the former butcher would have to do what he said and wouldn't tell anyone, and if there was the slightest of chances that his Name did change, he had still sworn oaths in the Ancient Language. Sloan wasn't going anywhere or betraying anyone ever again.

"Curse you, son of none!" Sloan spat, had the butcher had his eyes he would have been glaring at him. "Leaving me in this hole while you pranced around playing Rider."

"I _am_ a Rider, Sloan." Eragon reminded the upset butcher. He was surprisingly keeping his emotions in check, perhaps because he was used to Sloan belittling him since he was just a boy.

Sloan slumped against the smooth sandstone, "What do you want, Eragon?"

Eragon raised a brow when Sloan said his name without any spite or some hidden meaning, just with weary resignation. "I want to give you your second chance, Sloan."

Sloan pffted, "And what would that be, hmm?" The former butcher and now blind man asked with no small amount of acid lacing his tone, "What could I possibly do to _redeem_ myself, as you so put it? Shall I go find Horst and offer him a free flank steak the next time I run into him? Shall I offer Birgit my condolences of dear Quimby's fate at the hands of those, those flesh eaters!?" Sloan spat out as he remembered the Ra'zac, what they did to him and others before him.

Ronan clapped Eragon on the back, "You got this, Eragon-elda. Good luck." With that the young man gave his mentor a quick thumbs up before leaving the cave that had become Sloan's temporal home.

_Damn it, Ronan._ Eragon thought with a scowl as he saw his treacherous student leave him alone with a bitter and angry Sloan. _Next time we do sword fighting lessons I'm not holding back! Maybe I'll forget to place Gëuloth du knífr on Undbitr, accidently of course…_

"You won't be seeing Horst or Birgit for a long, long time, Sloan." Eragon said with no small amount of venom in his tone, Sloan had betrayed them in the end, even though he had known them for decades. What was it that Oromis used to always tell him during their lessons?

Forgive, but don't forget.

For a brief second Sloan's face seemed to turn saddened, his harden features turning soft as he pondered on what he was going to say next. "Horst, Birgit, Morn, Gertrude, Fisk, Gedric… Are they alive? Did they make it?" Sloan asked softly, so soft that if Eragon didn't have the enhanced hearing of an elf he would have missed it.

For a moment Eragon felt true sympathy for the crippled man in front of him. It was obvious that deep down Sloan regretted his deed of killing Bryd and betraying his people, had his love for Katrina not been so strong Eragon was sure he wouldn't have done it. But like his Name said, pain comes from love as does desperation.

"Aye, they made it." Eragon knew he couldn't lie to the blind man in front of him. Despite all that had happened, Sloan did still care for his former friends of Carvahall.

Sloan's entire posture seemed to slacken almost as much as he had when he learned of Katrina's wellbeing. "Good, I'm glad to hear they made it to safety." He whispered to himself, not knowing that despite Eragon's human features he was no longer completely human and was now an elf human hybrid that could hear the heart beat of a mouse several feet away with no trouble at all.

"I want to give you an offer, your second chance." Eragon continued not telling Sloan he had heard him, he'd rather not have his ears be blown off by Sloan's yelling of personal privacy and damned hunter's turned Rider hearing things he shouldn't.

"And that is?"

"Join me," Eragon offered with utmost seriousness. "I have your oaths of fealty as well as your True Name, but I would like to have you actually want to help me, not forced to help me. You may not know this, but I'm considered a…" Eragon trailed off wondering exactly _what_ he was. "A rebel."

_A rebel who used to be with an army of rebels but was betrayed by said rebels so now I'm my own type rebel with my band of rebels who are rebelling against the Empire and somewhat the Varden who are the army of rebels… wow that didn't give me a headache. Damn, Ronan must be rubbing off on me,_ Eragon decided wearily as he rubbed his temple in a vain attempt to stop the headache.

"So we're in Surda, with the Varden." Sloan decided, not knowing about the Varden betraying the man standing in front of him.

"No. We're in Du Fells Nágoröth to be exact." Eragon told the former butcher.

"Du Felly what?"

Eragon sighed, suddenly remembering that Sloan nor any residents of Carvahall knew any of the Ancient Language or that it even existed seeing as he himself had never been informed of the Language that all knew deep down in their instincts.

"The Hadarac Desert. Right in the middle to be exact."

"Oh. Explains why it's so damned hot in here."

Eragon sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. "Second chances, offers. Something that'll change your life!" Eragon exclaimed as they tried to get back on track with their earlier conversation.

Once when he realized he had Sloan's full attention again, he continued. "You can join me and the others. You may be a human and are thus not able to be the strongest nor the fastest of us. Since Ronan and I are Riders we have abilities mere humans do not have nor would be able to have…. I also had a bit of a growth spurt during my time with the elves," Eragon said as he grimaced ever so slightly as he remembered the pain of the transformation that the long dead dragons had placed upon him during the Agaetí Blödhren. "But you are a good fighter, from the memories I managed to see through Roran's memories-"

"In case you've forgotten, oh mighty dragon Rider," Sloan interrupted the Rider, sarcasm evident in his tone. "I'm _blind."_

"That can easily be fixed."

Sloan jerked backwards as though he had been smacked by Saphira's tail. His mouth widened to near impossible size, his breathe suddenly becoming ragged as the older man tried, and failed, to calm his heartbeat and breathe slowly. Small droplets of fluid (his ruined eyes and tear ducts only allowing the man the smallest of tears), found their way to the surface and were nestled against the man's ruined skin, where it had been the personal treat to the beaks of a species now dead and gone for what Eragon hoped to be forever.

"H-How?" Sloan's chocked gasp came from the man's barreled chest, his long and thick fingers turning stark white as they gripped his knees as hard as Sloan could managed.

"Magic." Eragon told the man simply, Sloan shifted ever so slightly. The word _magic_ forming on his pale lips, but no sound came from them, as though the mere word was taboo. Like the Spine was to the butcher, magic seemed to be the same to the once simple countryman.

"That's right, Sloan. I could heal your eyes, from the cornea to the iris to the pupil, from your eyelashes to your eyelids. It is possible with the right words and enough energy… I can make you _see._" Eragon told the crippled man, his voice telling no lies.

With magic anything was possible as long as one knew and followed the laws of it.

Sloan's fingertips tenderly touched the ruined and somewhat rotten flesh that had once held his eyes, now mere tatters of dying and decaying flesh. His arms as a whole seemed to be shaking, whether in joy of the thought of being able to see the world again, to see its colors and beauty, to see Katrina just one more time… It nearly made the broken man weep right then and there.

"Why are you doing this?" Sloan managed to say through chocked sobs. His tattered eye sockets somehow managed to lock into Eragon's brown eyes, despite no gaze Eragon felt as though Sloan was staring right at him. "I've done so much harm in my life, far more than I've done good. I'm a broken man, Eragon." Sloan whispered as he gestured towards his ruined eyes and then to his body. And while the scars, cuts, and bruises given to the man by the deadly Ra'zac were things of the past, Sloan would remember each cut, each hit, each nibble as their sharp beaks bit into his tender skin as easily as his cleaver would through warm butter.

"I've done so many bad things, most of which to you and your family… You were the one family in Carvahall that had never lost a family member in the Spine. Everyone had at least once lost a member, but your family," Sloan shook his head, "Not one… It was the reason why I loathed you. Jealous of the protection that had been placed upon your family, wishing it had been on my family instead." Sloan admitted as though he was telling Eragon his greatest fear. Shame seemed to leak off the man as he told Eragon why he had treated him so.

"Sloan…" Eragon was shocked. _This _was the reason why Sloan had hated Garrow, Ronan, and himself. He was jealous of their so called protection, as though some deity had deemed them worthy of its protection while damning his wife to her tragic fate.

"I won't apologize for that, Eragon." Sloan said with the trademark stubbornness of someone born in Carvahall. "Perhaps because I don't know how to. But I want to know one thing, why forgive me at all?" The blind man asked bluntly. "Why not just slay me and be done with it, hmm? It'll be much easier than carrying me around, keeping an eye one me, making sure I don't try to make things worse for you behind your back. Surely a part of you wishes for redemption, for my past mistreatment of you as a boy… So tell me, why?"

"Because I am no longer the Eragon you once knew." Eragon said softly as he stared at one of the few remainders of his simple and uncomplicated past. "I am no longer the simple farm boy hunting in the Spine hoping to sell some meat to feed his family. I would've traded the biggest buck in the world to get rid of all my family issues I have going if I could." Eragon closed his eyes as he tried to figure out on what to say next. "I've changed too much, seen too much, known too much, to simply be as I were a mere year ago. I've fought in battles that will be remembered for generations, spilt enough blood to fill Leona Lake, seen wonders of great civilizations that humans have spoken of as though they were fairytales, and I've been betrayed by those I thought close to my heart."

Sloan stayed silent, listening as he realized that this really was no longer the Eragon that he had seen grow from a bawling babe to a stubborn boy reaching manhood. He was different. Whether for good or for worse, Sloan honestly did not know.

"I could never go back to the things were before all this happened. I've changed too much, Sloan…" Eragon sighed as he brushed his brown locks out of his eyes. "But despite the evils I've seen, I have seen the good." The young Rider admitted. "I can tell when there is good in people, and while it has been hidden by years of pain and suffering, of hatred and anger. I can still see that you have a chance of redemption for your past misdeeds, a second chance."

Eragon stood up and turned his back on Sloan, who was silently mulling over Eragon's answer with a slight frown of puzzlement. "I won't force you to do anything if I can help it, I'm no king like Galbatorix or Orrin. Merely a man of equal footing, looking to find a way to end this bloody war and usher in an era of peace. An era where fear doesn't exist. Where hate doesn't fester and grow. An era of the new Dragon Riders." Eragon walked over to the small crevice that acted as the entrance to Sloan's cave, he stopped and looked over his shoulder to Sloan. "I'll come back to heal your sight… and to know your answer."

With that said and done Eragon strode out of the cave, leaving Sloan alone with only his thoughts for company and comfort.

* * *

><p>Eragon found Ronan on top of the mountain they had made as their temporary home, he was leaning against Bjartkoü's forearm and was currently chatting with Arya. The young Rider was eagerly grilling the amused elf on everything about Du Weldenvarden and, to Eragon's horror, Eragon's past experiences that often ended badly for the then young Rider.<p>

Once he heard Ronan ask about Eragon's love life and his infatuation with the elf he was talking to Eragon snapped. He strode up and whacked his student upside the head.

"Oww, Eragon-elda. What was that for?!" Ronan cried as he clutched his head in pain.

"You know what that was for!" Eragon rebutted with a scowl as he crossed his arms while looking down on his student, annoyance burning in his brown orbs.

"So I may have ditched you," Ronan conceded but looking very annoyed of his mentor and master as he rubbed a rising bump forming on the crown of his head.

"Yes, you did." Eragon growled out, seeing as Ronan had completely abandoned him to face an angry Sloan alone with no back up in case Sloan had somehow magically made a blade from the rock and try to dissect the brown-haired Rider like he would a chicken. "Do you have an explanation?" Eragon demanded, knowing full well his student didn't.

"Uhmm… I'm not a people person?" Ronan said weakly.

Eragon turned his attention to Bjartkoü, who was watching the affair with amusement gleaming in his brilliant eyes. Eragon locked his eyes with Bjartkoü's, dark brown against glowing gold. "Bjartkoü I completely understand if the only reason you hatched for your idiot of a Rider was merely to get out of your egg." Eragon informed the dragon somberly, as though he shared Bjartkoü's sympathies for being the other half of Ronan's heart and soul.

Bjartkoü's lip curled, showing off ivory teeth bigger and longer than his arm, amusement burning in his eyes that not even the greatest of gold could hope to compare to. Smoke puffed out of his nostrils as a deep rumbling vibrated through the mountaintop as the great white dragon chuckled.

_Perhaps, Eragon-elda,_ Bjartkoü rumbled out, his deep voice heavy with amusement.

Ronan looked up at the great dragon, his mouth open in shock. He stared at his other half of his heart and soul with wide hazel eyes, "You're joking right?" Ronan asked, wondering if his best friend was actually indeed joking.

"….."

"….."

"…Bjartkoü?"

"…"

Ronan was looking wide-eyed at the single golden eye the size of a dinner plate, Bjartkoü's eye was half open as he stared at his best friend, his tail moving with barely concealed amusement as his Rider was gaping at the giant reptile like a fish out of water. On a whim Bjartkoü puffed a cloud of smoke that descended upon Ronan, who immediately started to hack at the fumes.

Once Ronan managed to wave away the noxious fumes he glared at the older Rider and mentor, "Great. You've just completely ruined the sacred Rider-dragon bound, Master Eragon." Ronan looked away, fake tears forming as he tried to look sad, "Well, you've completely ruined everything." The former blacksmith decided as he went into a thinking pose, his chin pressed against his knuckles as he inspected the landscape.

Eragon locked gazes with Arya and rolled his eyes. Eragon didn't need any type of mental connection to the love of his life as though to merely say _this happens all the time_.

Arya had been watching the trade off of barbs with barely concealed humor. She resisted a small chortle as she saw Bjartkoü ignoring his Rider's protests on why exactly Bjartkoü had hatched for the then blacksmith apprentice after being in his white egg for nigh a hundred years.

"Calm down," she told the two human teenagers, who immediately stopped their taunting and focused their attention to the older elven princess. Arya quirked a small smirk as she looked at Eragon, who shifted uncomfortably as though realizing something was about to happen that he wouldn't like. "Ronan," she told the broad teenager, "I don't think I've ever told you the tale of when _Master_ Eragon accidently walked into a bear den during his stay in Du Weldenvarden, needless to say the tale involves him running throughout the entire forest and Ellesméra with an angry mother bear roaring after him, it didn't take long before a clan of badgers chased after him as well when he nearly barreled into him."

Eragon groaned, "What do badgers have against me?" He wondered aloud as he thought of all the times the angry animal had given chase to him, it wasn't like he was trying to anger them for Gûntera's sake!

"Maybe next time Bjartkoü and I journey to the Beor Mountains instead of bringing home a pack of Shrrg I'll bring home a clan of badgers, maybe I'll find some as big as an Urzhad." He chuckled thinking of the giant bear that could grow to the size of a house.

Eragon scowled at his student, "Keep saying that and I will not hesitate on using so many complex spells on you, you will probably take the form of a slug."

"Oh yeah? Well I-"

Suddenly the two young Riders were suddenly thrown on the ground as a powerful gust of wind made them knocked them down. The source of the gale was none other Saphira whose mighty form landed on the peak, her wings held high and ready to blast the two Riders back into the worn sandstone if they so much as moved.

_If you two are done doing your human male bonding, however stupid it is. I think we've had enough of your taunts and jeering._ The great dragoness declared, turning her head to the side to look both teenage Riders' with one great blue eye easily twice as big as Bjartkoü's and the size of a common wooden round shield.

Whatever annoyed protests the mentor and student wanted to say were quickly cut off when Saphira glared at them. Finally the two abashed men lowered their gazes until they found great interest in the worn and gritty sandstone.

_Will you two act as men your age? Will you act like a Rider?_ Saphira demanded while Bjartkoü watched from afar, his golden eyes gleaming in amusement as he watched Saphira scold their other half of soul and heart as though they were misbehaving hatchlings who wished to sneak out of the nest and eye of their protective parents and explore.

"Yes Saphira." The two Riders mumbled, their eyes refusing to meet the great sapphire blue of the dragoness.

Saphira hummed in approval. _Good._ The older dragoness then strode over to her fellow dragon accidently, or perhaps not, having her tail lightly whack both humans of the head.

Bjartkoü suddenly felt the gaze of Arya on him, he turned around and looked at her. The color of springtime and the color of melted gold meeting.

_Does this really happen all the time?_ The future Queen of the elves asked the great dragon laying near her.

Bjartkoü huffed in annoyance, smoke curling around his nostrils. _You have no idea, little elf. No idea._

* * *

><p><strong>Ancient Language<strong>

Du Fells Nágoröth – The central mountains in the Hadarac Desert, as well as the ancestral home of the wild dragons before the Fall.

Gëuloth du knífr - Dull the knife

Agaetí Blödhren – Blood Oath Celebration

Du Weldenvarden – The Guarding Forest

* * *

><p><strong>For those also wondering why Sloan is a bit of a jerk to Eragon. He has been his whole life, just because he shows up with a dragon doesn't mean that he'll like him. Not only did he separate him from Katrina but he also made him swear oaths, don't worry Sloan <strong>_**will **_**change his tune. Why else would I have him in here without any redemption and actually wanting to help Eragon. Also since CP said that Sloan hated all of Eragon's family, I felt like that would be the reason why he hated them, he was jealous.**


	20. Leader, King, and Witch

"My Lady, perhaps you should retire for the evening?" Jörmundur lightly asked with concern for his leader as he sat in front of the ornate desk that held important information.

Nasuada sighed and rubbed her eyes, bags showing even with her darker skin. Showing that many a night had been spent overseeing the rebel army known as the Varden.

Nasuada gave a weak smile of gratitude to her father's lifelong friend, council member, commander, and the second in command of the Varden. "Thank you Jörmundur, but honestly I am fine." The daughter of Ajihad assured her top commander.

The commander scowled at his leader and superior, not buying her word one bit. Concern was in his dark grey eyes as he looked at his friend with worry, "Nasuada..." He said softly.

Nasuada raised a brow at the informal way of addressing her, knowing that whatever he was about to say was important seeing how much Jörmundur had faith in her.

"You're exhausted." The second in command pointed out, "We all are." It was then that Nasuada noticed the bags under Jörmundur's eyes as well, his face was paler than usual and his salt and pepper hair had more grey hair than the last time she had seen him.

"We can't rest, my friend." Nasuada pointed out.

"We may be the top of command, but we aren't dragons. We're human, and humans need their rest. _You_ need your rest." Jörmundur said with steel laced within his tone, dead set on convincing the stubborn woman to get even one nights rest at best.

"I'm fine." Nasuada repeated herself, annoyance lacing her tone as her brown eyes looked at the grey eyes of Jörmundur with a small challenge in them, as though daring the older man to say anything else.

"When was the last time you slept?" Her friend demanded.

When Nasuada didn't answer him, the soldier sighed and ran his hair through his greying locks. "You haven't slept since Captain Roran and his wife came back from Helgrind."

Nasuada winced ever so slightly. "And you blame me?"

Jörmundur shook his head, "No. I don't. I'm still in shock as much as you and the rest of the Council. But that doesn't mean you can shut yourself in your tent, barely eat or drink, you haven't slept at all! Don't deny it!" He snapped when Nasuada's mouth opened but shut when Jörmundur interrupted her. The commander sighed wearily, "I have half a mind to go to Angela to whip you up a sleeping potion and make you drink it at sword point."

Nasuada groaned. "Please don't mention that troublesome herbalist." She pleaded her closest confident. Ever since Ronan had returned without Arya, the witch had been pestering Nasuada for answers, hell she had even seen the shadow of Solembum poking around her quarters!

"Then can we please talk about Eragon?"

Nasuada looked at Jörmundur, her brown eyes wary as she would rather not have this discussion. "Why?" she asked, hoping to get out of the sensitive subject of the rouge Rider.

Jörmundur scowled at her, "You know why." He stated with crossed arms. His grey eyes soften when he looked at his leader, "You told me about the meeting… with King Orrin, and that dwarf… You know I don't judge you, you know?"

Nasuada winced. "You should, Commander Jörmundur. Because of me we lost our Rider and dragon. Because of me he probably hates us. Because of me Arya has no doubt been informed on why Eragon left and will soon tell her mother and brethren, who will then desert us. For all I know she's already told King Orik and we'll lose the dwarves as well… And we deserve it."

"You tried to save his life, Nasuada." Jörmundur protested. "While I agree banishment is something Eragon doesn't deserve, isn't it better than being stabbed in the back by those he had called friends? If anything it's Orrin and that dwarf's fault… who the hell was he anyway?" The commander asked his leader as he spat on the ground to insult both the King of Surda and the dwarven commander.

"He was formerly the leader of the Dûrgrimst Az Sweldn rak Anhûin, Vermûnd, before he was exiled by the dwarf clans when he and some of his clan tried to assassinate Arya due to her friendship with Eragon, who as you know had been declared their mortal enemy because of his Rider status the second they made eye contact…" Nasuada shook her head, her dark curls bouncing from the movement. "I should have noticed how much venom there was when Vermûnd spoke of Eragon, perhaps all could have been avoided if I had been just a bit more diligent."

"It doesn't matter now, Lady Nasuada. What happened in the past has already passed us, and no amount of praying and wistful thinking will ever change it." The wise and noble commander of the rebellion told his leader, who knew that he was right. It didn't hurt to be wistful though.

"I know, Jörmundur. But I can't help but wish, now can I?" Nasuada delicate features turned saddened, "Eragon probably hates us now." She said in a bare whisper as she mournfully thought of her former ward and soldier, now turned enemy thanks to the leaders of the rebellion, her rebellion. "And I can not blame him, we've done the worst thing imaginable to him… How I wish I had spoken up, perhaps I could have changed the minds of Orrin, I know Vermûnd's ideals would never have changed but it would have been two to one, and none of this would of happened."

Jörmundur snorted at her words despite himself. "My Lady, you know as well as I how much Orrin has changed from the lad he used to be during your childhood. Kinging has changed him, and not for the best may I add. It has made him paranoid. He feared Eragon more than anything, though he did well to hide it from the public and us." The older commander shook his head at Orrin's foolishness and how much it had cost them. "He feared Eragon because he held, and still holds mind you, the hearts of our men. He was our champion, the shining light in the dark and dreary world. He was hope itself, a symbol that freedom _is_ possible. No matter what Orrin could do, Eragon would always be held on a higher pillar than he, a King. And it made him angry, not to mention fearful and desperate... and you know as well as I what fear and desperation does to a man."

"He still didn't need to think of killing Eragon, Jörmundur." Nasuada whispered, her dark brown eyes seemed to grow misty as she thought of all the pain she could have prevented. Did that one night, that one talk, that one argument, did it change the course of Alagaesia? Did it change destinies? Fates? For all she knew the entire war had been altered had Orrin not kept his fears to himself and not take it out on Eragon, who was such a good and noble soul.

"I do not know what made Orrin think the way he did, or why he wished to have it end in violence and murder." The soldier told his leader with a frown thinking of the rather idiotic king.

Nasuada shook her head, "This war has changed many men, Jörmundur. Orrin among them. Perhaps Orrin truly believed that Eragon would of done anything for the throne, maybe he even thought that Eragon would turn his sights on Surda and take it. Perhaps Orrin thought that Eragon truly was turning into another Galbatorix."

"Pfft, and my uncle Undset was an elf."

Despite herself Nasuada gave her friend and fellow soldier a wry grin, "Wasn't he though?"

Jörmundur threw his hands up in defeat. "Bah, you know what I mean! The second Eragon becomes a power hungry war hawk with insanity rotting in his brain is the day Saphira turns into a rabbit!"

Nasuada smiled at her friend, happy to find a kindred spirit in such dark times. "I am glad to know you didn't believe the things that drunk was sprouting off."

"And I you, My Lady."

There was silence for a couple of moments, Jörmundur suddenly finding great interest in a rather torn patch on the ceiling of the tent. His bottom lip being bit by his teeth as he stared out into space.

"Speak Jörmundur. You know that I value your council more the Elders."

"The Ra'zac." Jörmundur said bluntly.

Nasuada sighed, knowing how much her advisor wanted to speak of this matter. She remembered the day when Roran had appeared on the outskirts of Aroughs, as though out of nowhere, Katrina on his arm… And no Arya to be found.

Her blood had turned as cold as ice when she saw that the Elven Ambassador not with the cousin of Eragon Shadeslayer, fearing that the fight with the Ra'zac had ended the skillful and mysterious elven princess. Not only would she have lost a friend, but perhaps the death of her only child and heir would send Islanzadí and her elven armies back into Du Weldenvarden, leaving them to fight alone. The elves had been a major turning stone for the Varden, what with their superior magical prowess and the swiftness only the fairest of all races could hope for. They had attacked the northern parts of the Empire with a vengeance, easily taking over the unsuspecting Ceunon in a night's time with few casualties.

But when Roran had told her the (what she assumed was a heavily modified and somewhat lacking) story of how when they had arrived at the Gates of Hell, they did not meet the deadly and feared Ra'zac, eater of man's flesh.

No…

They had run into none other than Eragon Shadeslayer and Saphira Bjartskular. The Ra'zac already defeated and bleeding on the floor, even their parents had not survived the attack against a vengeful dragoness and her Rider.

Eragon and Saphira were alive…

And quite possibly hated her and the Varden.

Not that she could blame them of course, but that didn't settle the small spike of fear that pierced her heart. Despite the fact that both powerful fighters had once been under the same banner as herself, being betrayed by them probably left them angry at the rebels. For all she knows they were planning on destroying the Varden, and while she hoped that Eragon had even remained the same as she had known him, but this world was a cold and dreary place. Especially if you were a lone Rider caught in the middle of a bloody war that fought for the ability to usher in the next era of Riders, Nasuada highly doubted that Eragon's self exile had been anything but simple. Not to mention that even with the Varden Eragon still managed to get himself into trouble. She was just happy that Alagaesia hadn't been accidently destroyed by the younger man.

She remembered some of the few details Roran would part with, one being the death of the Ra'zac, the fate of Sloan the Betrayer, and how Eragon had changed.

While Roran didn't say outright about his cousin (And when he did it was mostly because he was forced too and he didn't look happy with it), but Nasuada had learned much from her father and being the leader of the Varden. She could tell by Roran's eyes and the way he moved.

From what she could gather that despite no longer having a home (far as she knew) Eragon hadn't waste any time in training. The fact he defeated the Ra'zac without help showed that he had grown even stronger as had Saphira who slayed their parents without help as well. The last time she had seen the Blue Rider he couldn't have done it, perhaps with help he could of slayed the Ra'zac, but alone? No, he couldn't have. But apparently that had changed during half the year he had been gone.

She at first suspected that Eragon had been hiding in Du Weldenvarden, the home of the elves. But after hearing Roran's story she highly doubted that, she would have certainly received a rather angry letter from the Queen, and she highly doubted that Eragon was somewhere in the Empire, seeing as that was the home of Galbatorix and the infamous Red Rider.

Later she wondered if he had gone to Vroengard, the ruins that had once been the citadel for the Riders of Old. But when she had gone to Jeod he had blatantly told her that he highly doubted it that, due to the fact the entire island itself was contaminated with toxic magic, not to mention the rumors of strange creatures that had been mutated by the magic itself.

"Lady Nightstalker," A great and burly Kull appeared in the entrance to the tent, his armor gleaming in the torchlight as did the giant battle axe strapped to his back. On his right shoulder was the symbol that all of Nasuada's bodyguards wore. "King Orrin of Surda is here to speak to you."

Jörmundur visibly grimaced at the Kull's announcement, he quickly got up from his chair and bowed his head to Nasuada. "I shall leave you and King Orrin to your business, My Lady."

_How I wish I could leave as well, I'd much rather not deal with that oaf at the moment._ Nasuada thought to herself before motioning for her right hand man to leave.

The second the sight of Jörmundur's steel armor left her sight, King Orrin strode into the tent without any announcement. Even from several strides away Nasuada could smell the pungent odor of ale and wine coming off him.

"My Lady," Orrin said, a small smirk forming on his lips as he gave the woman a mock bow, nearly falling flat on his face as his balance being disrupted by the drinking he had been at.

Nasuada fought back the weary sigh at the sight of the Surdan King, ever since Eragon had left Orrin had started to drink even more. There was barely a time that Nasuada saw him that he wasn't either drinking or already drunk. It got even worse when they conquered the southern city Aroughs, King Orrin had immediately gotten into the wine cellar as well as the ale, he took it for himself and his men and had spent many a night drinking and cracking open more casks of ale that would have even made Saphira drunk.

"King Orrin," Nasuada curtly greeted her one time childhood friend and fellow general.

"How is our most prodigious and respected leader of the Varden doing this fine morning?" Orrin asked with a slight slur to his words as he stumbled his way into the oaken chair.

"Is there something you need, King Orrin?" Nasuada asked icily, not really in the mood to deal with the drunken king at the moment.

"When are we finally going to leave this swampy city, Nasuada," Orrin demanded her, his cheeks turning bright red. "We need to continue on this war path if we even hope of trying to reach Feinster, hell we haven't even gone farther north than my own country!"

Nasuada then actually sighed, ever since they had taken over Aroughs (and Orrin had drunken near half the entire wine cellar) the king of Surda demanded that they continue to march north to the Capitol, ignoring the fact that they are Riderless and the Empire has the King and the Red Rider. His claims were that he hadn't helped foster and support the Varden only to gain barely a small southern city surrounded by a muggy swamp when there were greater cities and riches to conquest (as well as much higher quality ale).

Sometimes the daughter of the former Varden leader wondered if all the ale and wine had rotted out the once mad genius's head. It would certainly explain the suicidal warpath he wanted to waste men on.

"Like I've said many times, _King_ Orrin," Nasuada said through gritted teeth, "And it's _Lady_ Nasuada to you." She told the man, king or not she would not allow Orrin to belittle her, especially since she technically had more power than him due to her being the leader of the Varden. "Leaving Aroughs would be suicidal until further notice, we've lost morale and men due to Eragon's leaving and not to mention there is another Rider flying around who could possibly end us without our magicians. We will not leave until we have thought of a plan to conquer Feinster."

Orrin scowled at what he thought was an insult when Nasuada told him to call her Lady, leader or not he would not allow her to undermine his authority! When she mentioned Eragon and his leaving his face turned a mixture of beet red and pale white, making his face look like lumpy porridge.

"It doesn't matter!" Orrin spluttered out, "Rider or not, I will not stand idly while the time to strike the Empire is at hand!... Your father would have agreed with me."

Nasuada looked as though Orrin had slapped her, she stood up and slammed her palms against the aged wood, her brown eyes lit in an inferno of rage. "Don't you _dare_ say what my father would have or not have agreed on, Orrin." Nasuada all but growled at the King. "My father would have agreed with me, what would be the point if we arrived at the Capitol with barely a platoon of soldiers? Your greed and arrogance know no bounds. Not to mention your lack of care to our men, our people."

Orrin stood up as well, he was a couple inches taller than her but to any onlooker Nasuada was definitely the more intimidating figure due to her eyes and barely held anger as she tried not to strike the drunken man in front of her.

"I do take care of my people, the Surdan people," Orrin all but spat out, flecks of spittle nearly hitting Nasuada's face while she fought back the urge to scrunch her nose at the heavy smell of old sweat and alcohol.

"And what of the Varden, _my_ people?" Nasuada demanded as she held up one hand and put it in front of Orrin's face, she didn't slap or strike him she instead pulled down the sleeves of her dress to reveal that her dark forearms were wrapped with bandages. "I care for all of us, from the Varden to the Surdans to the dwarf Clans. I did _this_ for them." She pointed at her bandages, which concealed the thick scars she had earned from the Trial of Long Knives, a ceremony that required her to cut her arms over and over with someone who wished to be the leader of the Varden. She had won, and the scars proved that she wasn't afraid to earn scars or pain if it meant to help the Varden. And the people knew that.

Which was something that made Orrin even more weary of his former childhood friend than ever.

_What happened to him?_ Nasuada wondered sadly. _When did the once eager mind of an inventor turn into a cesspool of alcohol and fear, not to mention desperation?... Kinging has done him no justice in the slightest, but sometimes that's what happens to someone used to power and suddenly finding themselves with people on equal if not higher ground. Jealousy and arrogance are a terrible thing when mixed together._

"If you will excuse me, Lady Nasuada," Orrin said stiffly as he turned on his heels and strode out of the tent, Nasuada resisted the urge to snort when Orrin's foot got caught in the tent flap and was only saved from falling into the mud by one of her Kull guards.

Orrin shoved the Kull's arm away from him, his features curling in distaste. As the king walked away Nasuada could hear the heated grumbles of the Kull talking to one another in their native tongue, no doubt insulting the King of Surda.

"It's about time that idiot left, his nosy and higher than thou attitude was getting rather annoying."

Nasuada froze as she heard the familiar voice, despite the fact she knew that sooner or later the speaker would visit, it still gave her chills on how easily she could sneak into her tent even with her armed guards.

"Elva, it is good to see you again." Nasuada greeted the cursed child as she walked away from the shadows of the tent and sat on the chair both Jörmundur and Orrin had just sat in. Due to her having the body of a four year old, Elva's legs dangled in the air a couple inches from the ground. Despite that Nasuada was still weary of the child, whose piercing violet eyes seemed to stare at her without blinking.

"Do you have any food? I'm starving?" Elva declared in the voice only an adult could have, it still unnerved Nasuada that Elva was technically only a year or so old, but due to Eragon's magic her body had started to age rapidly until she looked to be four.

Nasuada's maidservant, who had been standing in the corner, immediately went out of the tent before returning with a plate of chicken legs and mashed potatoes. Both the women were used to Elva's hunger (perhaps a side effect from Eragon's spell that made her grow faster and thus needing more energy to function, not to mention her gift, or curse as some people thought it is, was rather consuming).

Elva immediately started to devour the meat, for awhile there was only the sound of Elva eating. When she had stripped the bone of all meat and the last bit of mashed potatoes was consumed she finally spoke, "Orrin was about to strike you," She said matter of factly. "I made sure he didn't."

Nasuada blinked, she realized that she had no doubt offended Orrin (even though he himself was the reason for the aggravation), but she didn't think he would have done anything violent. Apparently she had misjudged him.

"Thank you," she told the cursed child. Nasuada owed Elva, if not for her she would of failed the Trial of Long Knives, and would thus be replaced by the leader of the only Wandering Tribe that sought to ally themselves with the rebellion. The others had either refused or had backed away and broken all ties.

She remembered when she had asked Fadawar after she had beaten him in the Trials. The chief of the Inapashunna Tribe had merely said one thing, something that troubled her greatly.

"_The Tribes have been looked upon with distaste by both people of the Empire and Surda for too long. We've been stuck in the neutral lands between your people and your war. But no longer, now there are rumors of a champion of not one Tribe but _all_ the Tribes. A champion who will win back the glory our people need and rightly deserve."_

Despite further questioning that was all Fadawar said, claiming that since he and the Inapashunna Tribe had allied themselves with the Varden before the mysterious 'champion' had appeared, they decided to remain with the Varden. The only Tribe to do so.

The fact alone that the Tribes were actually working together was nothing short of a miracle. Nasuada may not remember much of her childhood growing up in a Tribe with her father, but she still remembered the bitter rivalries of certain Tribes, either because of apparent theft or someone trying to expand borders. In the Hadarac Desert, you had to do whatever you needed to do to survive, there is no such thing as a miracle.

Apparently there was someone, maybe a warrior from one of the many Tribes, who had decided to have their Tribe and others band together. Nasuada was a great strategist and leader, it came with the position, and she knew how vulnerable the Tribes were alone. Generations of endless bloodshed had weakened the Tribes of the Hadarac Desert. Leaving them smaller numbers and with the fact that even with their ancestral memory of the dunes and its dangers, it still posed a threat to even them, the knowers of the desert and its unpredictable ways.

It was obvious to the former Tribeswoman that whoever this champion was, he was preparing for war.

But the real question was, what side will he choose?

* * *

><p>Angela was sitting on her stool besides her cauldron that was bubbling a rather odd golden liquid, the bubbles forming on the top of the liquid and slowly rising before popping.<p>

The mysterious witch was currently knitting what appeared to be socks that only a Kull could hope to wear, and even then by a small margin as it looked like it could have fit Saphira half a year ago or so. Angela hummed to herself at some sort of peppy tone going on in her head, her needles making the normal _click clack_ as though following the beat going through the witch's mind.

A dark shadow appeared and entered the tent, which had enough herbs and other flora that reminded her of her herbalist shop back in Tierm. Solembum stalked towards his companion, who merely continued to hum.

When she saw Solembum she smiled, "Oh there you are! And here I was thinking you'd run off to go find yourself a new companion."

If Solembum's werecat form had eyebrows he most likely would of knitted them together in annoyance. _"I was only gone for an hour or so."_

"Mmmhm, I bet that was what you told your mother, right before you ran off with that pretty young she-cat." Angela smirked at Solembum, who had the decency to flatten his ears in embarrassment and annoyance.

"_That was a long time ago,"_ The werecat murmured before looking at his rather eccentric friend. _"And she wasn't that young!"_ Solembum couldn't help but defend himself, giving himself a rather large lick to some messy fur on his chest. _"Barely a summer or so younger than myself."_

Angela chortled, "Oh calm down, Solembum. You may choke on a hairball." She teased the large cat, whom merely glared at her while he sat down near the hearth and looked at the potion. The glowing liquid made his eyes (which he made sure had been in the shadows whenever he left the privacy of the tent) look almost the color of burning gold.

Silence crept into the tent, the only sound was the crackling fire, the bubbling potion, and the _click clack_ of Angela's knitting needles. Finally the rather odd witch said, "So, what did Orrin talk to Nasuada about? Please tell me it doesn't involve anything with alcohol. Hangover potions are rather annoying to make. Where in the world am I supposed to find tansy in this swamp?" She fumed, as many a morning Orrin had strode into her new home and demanded a potion for headaches. One day Angela would just give him a love potion and claimed it was for a hangover. _That_ would be rather funny to see in her opinion.

"_Nothing interesting, just the same thing all male rulers want. More money, more power, more land. Honestly it get's rather dull after a couple decades. At least during the Riders there was some actual action, but no. Orrin just complains and moans to Nasuada, who refuses saying she won't risk her men just for Orrin's greed. I think at one point she looked ready to slap him."_

Angela laughed, "I knew I liked that girl!" she crowed before she waved for Solembum to continue.

"_If you want to hear, please stop interrupting me."_ Solembum said crossly.

"Oh get your tail out of a twist, Solembum." Angela said with a wide grin, "How many years have we known each other?"

"_Way too many in my taste, you're rather…. Eccentric in my opinion." _The werecat said honestly while Angela didn't seem to be annoyed or angry at his words. She merely hummed in agreement.

"_Any way. Orrin got mad and lost his temper, Nasuada got mad but held hers in. Thank the Maker that she became the leader of the Varden and not Orrin. And after he left Elva appeared and they talked, apparently Orrin _was_ going to hit Nasuada but she prevented it. I left after that."_

"Elva has always been a rather interesting child, oh how I wish to see her future. Imagine all the possibilities that little girl has," Angela said, wistfully glancing at the pouch that held the knucklebones of a dragon that she used to tell the future, the _actual_ future, not the ones fake witches foretold for a little coin.

"_Haven't you seen enough of people's futures? First Selena, that blind man, and Eragon. Three's a crowd if you ask me."_

"Hmm, I do wonder what happened to our favorite Rider. Perhaps he took my advice and became a hermit to discover any differences between toads and frogs, where there are none. Ooh, maybe we can become fellow scholars together!" Angela mused happily.

"_I think Eragon has more important things to than reveal to the general public that toads do not exist and are in fact frogs."_ Solembum said with a deadpan.

"Hmm, I guess your right my dear friend… I wonder what he's been doing since we last met? Knowing him and the Rider's curse of always getting into trouble, I'd say he's had quite the year." Angela said as she thought of the Rider, "…. Not to mention what the bones say." She said as she remembered when Eragon's disappearance had spread through the camp like wildfire, she had immediately consulted with the bones.

The results were interesting to say the least.

"Not to mention you as well, Solembum." Angela said as the two remembered how after a couple months or so after Eragon left something changed.

The werecat looked up and his eye color was revealed to the witch. Once a brilliant blue, crimson red and then powerful gold, his eyes would always change according to a new life being made, and a new destiny to be forged by fate itself.

Solembum's bright eyes seemed to glow even more than his previous colors, the burning color of endless white.

* * *

><p><strong>Ancient Language andor other events before the original Cycle**

Vroengard – The ancestral home of the Riders, located in the northwestern ocean of Alagaesia. Abandoned during the Fall due to the air becoming toxic due to the Rider Thuviel's final stand against the Forsworn and Galbatorix.

* * *

><p><strong>Since today is my birthday I decided I'd treat you guys and gals to another chapter. I know that I didn't really feature Eragon or Ronan in it, but one of my reviewers suggested that I do another P.O.V. of Nasuada and all the stuff she has to deal with (Aka Orrin). Never really liked Orrin in the books, not to mention even in canon he became a drunk! Hope you liked it, it's actually pretty fun writing in Nasuada's point of view, mostly because I always liked her character hence why there is no bashing of her in this story. Orrin on the other hand? It's just too fun to pass up. Props to whoever got the deal with Solembum's eyes. Leave a review and tell me what you think, or a suggestion I don't really care I just love reading them because it gives me such great inspiration to continue writing.<strong>


	21. Safe Haven

Eragon sighed as he meditated on the top most peak of Du Fells Nágoröth, the rising sun setting the sandy dunes to a brimming gold that sparkled with a brilliance of rich color.

He was currently channeling most if not all of his energy into the brilliant sapphire that made up the pommel of his surrogate father's sword. Every day he did this, knowing his life he would need it sooner or later. Either in a fight or hollowing out Utgard.

Faintly he could hear the sounds of Ronan coming towards him, his footsteps seeming to echo on the warmed and weathered sandstone.

"We're ready to leave, master." Ronan told the older and more experienced Rider, looking rather somber compared to his normal boisterous personality. "You know, I think I'm going to miss this place." Ronan lamented as he looked upon the desert horizon wistfully. "After Bjartkoü hatched for me, before I met you, well the _real_ you, and Saphira, I always knew that one day sooner or later I'd have to leave my village. Leave my family." Ronan's smile turned somewhat bitter, not at Eragon but how much fate had played with his destiny, changing it from a life of a normal blacksmith apprentice into a fabled Rider. "I thought that I'd be on the run till the end of my days, afraid that Galbatorix would be right behind me or your brother would be in the shadows waiting to catch us. I never thought I'd have another place to call home…"

Eragon smiled wistfully, understanding where the young man was coming from. "You probably wouldn't believe me, but I know exactly how you feel." Eragon stated softly as he thought of the events that have happen in the course of a around two years or so ago, from the hatching of Saphira's egg, the discovery of Oromis and Glader, his self imposed exile due to the betrayal of the Varden command, and meeting Ronan and then Bjartkoü. "From all that's happened to Saphira and I, from the beginning to where we are now… We've never really found a place to call home either. Since the very beginning I noticed changes to my life, aside the fact that the other half of my soul and heart is a dragon, mind you. Those changes changed and altered me, forming not Eragon the farm boy but to Eragon the Rider. It's rather overwhelming, isn't it?"

Ronan nodded his head, sometimes when he was alone to just his and Bjartkoü's thoughts, his mind would still reel that his old life was gone and never could he return to it, he couldn't and wouldn't. Despite living a sheltered life compared to Eragon's adventures when he had just become a Rider, Ronan knew that even _if_ they somehow won the war, defeated Galbatorix, he wouldn't return to Ursür, to the forge. It scared and somewhat saddened him when he realized that the village he had been born and grown up in no longer felt like home, if anything it seemed to be detached to the newest of the Riders. Almost alienish and out worldly. Like a vague memory from a dream that no matter how much he tried to recall it, the vision would slip through his hands like the swirling sand surrounding him.

The closest thing he had to a home at the moment was Du Fells Nágoröth. Sure it was in the middle of the gods' damned desert where if you dozed off during meditation training you'd be burnt to a crisp (Ronan knew from experience), or that the only way to get water was to summon it via magic, or that the mountains itself seemed to be a memory by itself. He could vividly remember each scratch on the floor and walls from newborn hatchlings itching to try out their claws, scorch marks left from sneezing dragons or ill tempered ones, or the fact that there were visible spots where dragons had used their fiery breath to melt the rock into a comfortable nest for hatchlings.

"What made you think of turning Utgard into our new home?" Ronan asked Eragon curiously. "It's something I'd never think of."

Eragon gave his a wry grin, "And that's why." He explained. "No one would expect it. And for where I got the idea…." He trailed off his eyes set on the horizon, but Ronan knew he was in a different time and place. "I guess you could say I thought of it when I thought of Fathern Dûr." Eragon could vividly remember the crown jewel of the dwarven cities, the greatest yet most empty of the stronghold. He had seen many things in his life, the great palace of the elves being one of them, the Menoa Tree, and the great cathedral in Dres Leona. But in his opinion Fathern Dûr seemed the most mystical and grand out of them all.

In all honesty Farthen Dûr was the grandest city he had been in, Dres Leona and Teirm didn't cross his mind seeing as both were rather dull and less ornate when compared to Fathern Dûr was carved from the very mountain itself, despite its rather simple upbringing the whole place seemed to have its own special grandeur in the carvings.

Ronan nodded his head, "I wish I could see Fathern Dûr," the young teenager said wistfully, thinking of all the tales the storytellers had spun images of the dwarven cities in his mind.

Eragon clasped Ronan's shoulder, "Perhaps one day Ronan… When we can I promise you that I'll show you Farthen Dûr. Perhaps I could be your tour guide," he joked, remembering when he had first entered the dwarven stronghold and Orik had been given the task of showing him around.

"I'd like that." Ronan said with a grin, already eager.

"Just remember this, my young student." Eragon said seriously, "Home is always where the giant fire breathing reptile is."

Ronan raised a brow, "Who said that?" The newest of the Riders asked curiously, having never heard of that saying before in his life, perhaps some wise and noble leader of the Riders of Old had said it?

Eragon grinned, "I did."

The two couldn't help but laugh at that.

* * *

><p>Eragon stood besides Saphira as the two heart and souls looked at the now empty caves they had called their home, if only for half a year or so. The Eldunarí were already in both Eragon and Ronan's pocket dimension as was Saphira's armor.<p>

_I shall miss this place, little one. _Saphira told her Rider as her brilliant sapphire eyes looked upon her ancestral home with slight melancholy.

_And I. But we must move on, it is our way._ Eragon said, for he spoke the truth. Ever since their adventure had first been born, they had forever been on the run, neither finding a safe haven until now. Eragon prayed to the gods, both the dwarves and humans that they could finally stop running and hiding, to stand up and rise.

Arya walked towards them, Sloan trailing behind her. His hands were spread out as he struggled to move through the unknown cave, he had yet to give Eragon his answer, but Eragon would wait until he would do so.

"We're ready to go, Eragon." Arya stated simply, while Sloan merely huffed.

Eragon nodded at the beautiful elf, "Let us be off." He decided as he got onto Saphira's back, his hand outstretched to the love of his immortal life.

Arya grabbed his hand and pulled herself up, Ronan and Bjartkoü were already waiting outside for the others to join them for one final journey through the dunes of the Hadarac.

Sloan crossed his arms stubbornly, a scowl already marring his facial features, "If you think I'm going to take yer hand than you have another thing comin'- gah!" Sloan yelled as his body suddenly left the ground and hovered right behind Saphira's reptilian backside.

Eragon grinned internally as he continued to channel the magical energy to keep Sloan levitating near them, "Sorry Sloan. I'm afraid there isn't much room on Saphira." _And I don't think Ronan and Bjartkoü would welcome your presence so much,_ he internally mused.

"By the gods! Put me down you blasted son of a Kull!" Sloan roared, the fact that he couldn't see and was currently high above the floor not suiting the former butcher very well.

"Would you rather walk through the entire desert and all the way back to the northern parts of the Empire? I'd be happy to set you on your merry way, I'm afraid you wouldn't get that far. I haven't gotten your answer and I won't be able to heal you until we get to our new home," Eragon said rather cheerfully, just because he had become a different person didn't mean that he had to stop annoying Sloan, he had a whole year to make up.

"And here I thought you'd had grown, Eragon," Arya said with a small hint of amusement in her tinkling tone, her feline green eyes looking at the exchange with good humor.

Eragon shrugged, "Well we can't all be as mature as you, eh?" He teased the elf, which merely rolled her eyes that made him beam even more.

Saphira shook her wings before launching herself off the great mountains of the Hadarac Desert, Bjartkoü quickly following her. The two dragons roared as loud as they could, sending the desolate amount of prey and predators scurrying for cover as the two dragons bade their former home goodbye.

_Little one,_ Saphira said softly as she glided alongside Bjartkoü, his brilliant golden eyes the same color as the setting sun and the blazing dunes, she coiled her neck to look at him in the corner of her eye. _Why had you not told Arya of the Eldunarí?_

Eragon frowned when he heard this, this was a topic he'd much rather avoid until they had settled into their new home and didn't have to fear of Galbatorix discovering them. _There hasn't been any time, Saphira._

Saphira snorted, smoke erupting from her nostrils. _You and I know that's not true, _the dragoness retorted._ You told Ronan and Bjartkoü, yet not Arya, why is that?_

Eragon sighed and exhaled slowly though his nose, trying to calm his heartbeat and to cool his thoughts, _I know why I have to tell her, it's just…._

His other half of his heart immediately understood where Eragon was going with this, and how could she not? Eragon was Eragon and she would always know him, but sometimes his thoughts were a complete and utter mystery. She snorted and shook her head. Human males were weird. Even though she was bonded to one. _You are afraid of her reaction, aren't you?_ She asked softly, not judging him on his protectiveness of the elven princess. _You do realize that she can handle the truth of the egg-breaker's power? Arya is a capable warrior and an even greater friend._

_I know that Saphira but…_ Eragon trailed off as all of her Rider's memories came flooding through their connection. Arya joining them, Arya _smiling,_ Arya trusting the two of them with no hesitance, Arya being the happiest they had ever seen.

_How can I tell her that Galbatorix's sins are far darker than we ever realized?_ Eragon asked torn. _That his power comes from dragons long ago passed?... She was born right before the Fall, she could have known or heard of someone who had died during it, family members, friends of her mother, _anyone_, and to know that their deaths had given Galbatorix the power he needed to rule the Empire with an iron fist?_ Eragon internally shook his head mournfully, _You've seen how attached the elves are to the dragons, hell they practically _worshiped _you when we were in Du Weldenvarden, how would they react to this?_

_It would be terrible, _Saphira warily agreed, knowing full well how much the elves had respected the dragons, _but you still must tell her._

_I know, Saphira. I know._

* * *

><p>"It's so weird to see snow again," Ronan exclaimed as he scurried up the mountainside, neither knee-deep snow nor narrow nooks in the hardened stone seemed to stop the eager boy from reaching the top.<p>

Eragon paid him no mind, his gaze was fixated on the north. He could see the vague and fuzzy shape of the Anora River, his brown eyes fixed upon the rushing current, his eyes trailed upwards… somewhere, hidden by trees as ancient as the land itself and the mountains that made up the Spine was Carvahall.

There was a flash of pain in his chest as he quickly amended, of what was left of Caravhall.

He never realized how much it hurt to think of his home, where he had been born and raised, where he had grown to become the man he was now, was nothing more than emptiness. The only thing left would be the burnt outlines of burned down houses and… gods have mercy upon their souls, the bodies of those who couldn't escape the Empire's wrath.

He then noticed that Ronan had stopped as well, his gaze set slightly to the west, his human eyes couldn't make out the small village of Ursür but he knew that Ronan somehow knew exactly where it was.

"_I never thought I'd have another place to call home…"_

Eragon felt pity for the boy, he knew that Ronan was strong, both in mind and spirit. But he was just a teenager, he was younger than Eragon had been when Saphira had hatched for him, his sixteenth birthday had come and gone when they had been in the Hadarac.

He knew that Ronan put up a strong face, able to bring up anyone's spirit with just a quick quip, seeing as he was a teenager Eragon wasn't really surprised. But Eragon was afraid that the pressure would get to him, and wouldn't tell his mentor about it.

Saphira snorted lightly in amusement, _You're a teenager too, Eragon._

_I think I've passed that milestone in my life, Saphira._

"It's going to take a lot of magic and energy to do this, Eragon." Arya reminded the young human Rider, her green eyes fixated on the towering peak of Utgard. While compared to the Beor Mountains, Utgard was definitely much more smaller, but it was the largest mountain in the entire Spine, not to mention how strategically placed it was.

Ronan decided to reply with a small grin, "Ah but that's where the concern ends, princess. You see we have the small favor of having two dragons on our side, not to mention the Eldunar- mmph!" Eragon's hand had shot out and clasped around Ronan's mouth before he could finish.

"Err, don't listen to Ronan. I think he may have been dropped on the head as a child," Eragon said hastily while Arya looked at him with narrowed eyes, finally after a moment or so of tension Arya decided that whatever Ronan was about to say didn't warrant enough for an argument. She knew that sooner or later Eragon would tell her.

"Have you thought on exactly _how_ we're going to make the mountain hollow? You're not a dwarf, Eragon. I highly doubt mining or excavating rock, even with magic, is your strong suit." The elven princess pointed out.

Eragon nodded his head, "True. But I know enough to tell on where to burrow in, we have to be careful or the mountain could collapse upon itself. I've thought of this long and hard, Arya." Eragon turned his attention back to the towering mountain also known as the Place of Sorrow, both a glorious and infamous place for the history of the Riders.

"There will be multiple entrances, the largest will be at the peak seeing as only someone with a dragon could reach it. Seeing as how our soldiers will have to move in and out, we will have a main entrance and several lesser known and smaller entrances as ways to escape. The inside, or at least what I call the Outer Layer, will be a labyrinth. Only those trusted with the way through will know, we don't want someone to accidently walk in and discover us, can we?" Eragon said while everyone else listened, it sounded like a good idea both strategically and realistically. "The Inner Layer will be completely hollow, like Farthen Dûr is. Easily several miles or so wide with enough room for Saphira and Bjartkoü to fly around, though it will be somewhat cramped."

"What will be on the inside? In this Inner Layer?" Ronan asked.

Eragon shrugged his shoulders, "What else is in the middle of a city? A fortress." The young Rider gave the others a wry grin, "though I must admit it wont be as beautiful as Farthen Dûr's or even some of the Empire's fortresses, but then again we aren't going for looks. Merely a place of protection. As more people join we will form houses, or barracks, for them. They won't be the most lavish of places, but it will serve its purpose. I call this part, the Core."

"We can do that?" Ronan asked in awe, suddenly realizing the full extent a magician could use magic in.

Arya spoke, but she had the same message that Eragon would have said to the youngest of them. "Not all spells are created for destruction, Ronan." The raven-haired elf told the teenager, her eyes showing the wisdom only an immortal could hope to have.

"Like the elves sung to the trees of Du Weldenvarden, we shall sing to the rock of the mountain to shape as we please. As long as we have the will and the energy, we can accomplish anything." Eragon announced, his brown eyes gleaming in this belief, nobody spoke against him, for both had the utmost confidence of the Blue Rider.

"We shall make two tunnels for now, one here and the other at the top. Ronan, Bjartkoü, you two shall work here. Just continue to move the stone until you've reached the core, use your senses and magic. You will know when you've hit he heart of the mountain. I, Saphira, and Arya shall work on the peak where we can easily fly out and land in." Eragon spoke to the group.

Ronan nodded his head in agreement, his hazel eyes burning in determination to help his mentors and masters achieve their goal of building what would be their permanent home, perhaps for the next generation of Riders if they did truly defeat Galbatorix. Besides him Bjartkoü nodded his head as well, his thoughts nearly identical to that of his Riders.

Saphira launched herself off of the ground with Arya and Eragon seated upon her back, "Saphira, land there." Eragon told his greatest companion.

Saphira nodded her head and the three slowly flew into what appeared to be an enormous stone tower that seemed to emerge from the very mountain itself. It was obviously of elven make, the way the buttresses seemed more thinner yet more elegant had Eragon wondering if the tower had been here since the time of King Palancar.

The air turned somber as both Rider and dragon stepped onto the aged and cracked stone of what had once been a shining beacon of the Riders and their work, once it had been known as a place of hope and glory that showed the prowess of the Riders.

Eragon now felt as though he was walking through a tomb.

The elements had not been kind to the inside of Ristvak'baen, a place that had once been taken care of by the Riders. The once gleaming floor and walls were so cracked it reminded Eragon of intricate spider webs intersecting with one another. What had once appeared to be bookshelves filled to the brim with countless information containing the Ancient Language, of all the cultures in Alagaesia, of _everything_ that there was to know, it was just a collapsed heap of rotted wood and moldy scraps of parchment that not even the strongest of restoring spells could fix.

"This is where it all ended," Arya said softly as she looked around the ruins of the once glorious tower of the Riders with saddened eyes, "And where it all began."

_Ristvak'baen…. A fitting name,_ Saphira said grimly as her brilliant sapphire eyes looked around, before becoming fixated on something on the floor, her even greater eyesight than Arya and Eragon saw something they had yet to see. _Look._

Arya and Eragon looked and they saw what she had seen. Blood, dried and blackened, stained the once polished marble in a random pattern, the mold and dirt hiding it from the two until they specifically looked for it.

"It must have been leftover from the battle between Vrael and Galbatorix," Eragon said in awe, he looked around the spacious lower level of the tower with wide eyes and he saw what he had previously not noticed, maybe a part of him had noticed but blocked it out to spare his heart further damage.

Eragon had thought wrong, while some of the mess could have been caused by the elements over decades of neglect, but his sharpened eyesight noticed fragments of stone that could have been from a statue or a bust of some important figure, while it could have slowly shattered from the freezing and warming elements, the magician side of him urged him to realize that it was magic that had destroyed it.

Arya trailed her hand softly against an aged pillar, her hand feeling the parts where pieces of the enchanted marble had been chipped off, the soldier part of her recognizing the fact that a long time, near a century ago, a sword had missed its target and sliced through the enchanted stone with greater enchantments on the great Rider's blade.

Eragon noticed that against the stained marble, scorch marks were evident even after a century of mold and grim growing alongside it. Claw marks that could only belong to a dragon were near an entrance where Vrael's dragon, his or her name unknown after so long of Galbatorix ridding the world of any mentions of the Dragon Riders of Old, had ascended the skies to fight against Galbatorix's slave and not his half or heart and soul, the mad Shurikan to a death match in the frigid air at the edge of the Spine.

Eragon felt the world slowly started to bear down upon him with the fury of a thousand dragons, he dimly recognized slowly falling to the ground but managing to catch himself with his knee and steading himself with his right hand. The Rider was dimly aware of Arya hurrying to him, the faint smell of the scent of crushed pine needles and rainwater hitting his senses every so faintly, but he made no movement to acknowledge the elven princess. His head was throbbing painfully, he could feel his heart beat slowly pulsing through his paralyzed body, sending shivers down his spine. His breathing went erratic as he felt continued to feel the force forcing him down, as though to make him sink in the marble itself, he could barely breath at all.

"-gon. Eragon. Eragon!" Arya's voice slowly brought the Rider to his attention, he made contact with her eyes, Arya was looking at him with worry in her burning green eyes.

He slowly felt the force that was pushing him down slowly ebb away, the rushing pulses ramming in his head slowly ebbed away, he could breath once again. "S-Sorry," Eragon gasped, still out of breath. "I-It just hit me then," He said as he shook his head, as though to shake out the problems right out of his skull.

_Are you okay, little one?_ Saphira nuzzled him with worry in her brilliant blue eyes, being his other heart and soul she could feel the roaring emotions rushing into their connection, she was more than a little affected. Not that she could blame her Rider, being in this tower which seemed to be more fitting to be a tomb, was getting to her, the fact that this was where Vrael had been defeated and Galbatorix had won. It greatly troubled her and Eragon.

"I'm fine, Saphira… Can we leave this place? I feel as though I'm stepping on my own grave." Arya helped the man to his feet, with the air of a drunken man Eragon slowly managed to walk out of Ristvak'baen without the need of assistance.

The cool and frigid air lashed against Eragon's tanned features, rejuvenating the brown-eyed Rider greatly. _Saphira, do you believe in ghosts?_ He asked the dragoness with utmost seriousness.

Smoke curled out of Saphira's nostrils as she pondered his question. _Perhaps. We've seen many strange things in our lives, little one. Perhaps ghosts and wraiths are evident in this world, hidden behind a curtain that none can see but those who have already passed on to the Void. _

The currents of cooling air seemed to howl as though in agreement to Saphira's somber words. The winds sounding like harsh whispers that screeched in the half elf's pointed ears. Eragon shivered and it wasn't because of the cold.

"Let's begin," Eragon announced, eager to leave the subject of ghosts and wraiths for another time, where the sight of the once known tower called Edoc'sil was nowhere near the trio.

Eragon strode forward, the snow crunching under his boots. He didn't stop until he was a couple lengths as long as a dragon or so away from Ristvak'baen, he ran his palm that was forever marked with the Gedwëy Ignasia against the dark stone that made up Utgard.

Eragon slowly closed his eyes, his brow furrowed in concentration, with great experience of doing this countless times Eragon felt the fire hidden deep within him, the fuel that made magic possible. He grasped at the energy which has once been beyond his reach like tendrils of smoke and with it held.

"Deloi moi!"

Immediately he felt the as though a channel had been created, between him and the frozen and immovable mountainside. It was like a dam had been destroyed and all of the magical energy that was stored inside him came pouring out like a flood of swirling energies.

The dark grey rock seemed to ripple, reminding Eragon idly of how the crimson blade of Zar'roc had rippled like water when Saphira had touched it with her snout. Slowly but surely the hardened rock seemed to collapse upon itself, a large circle easily larger than Saphira's grand form slowly appeared amidst the stone and snow. The rock continued to slowly form a perfectly circular tunnel, Eragon wiped a small bead of sweat from his forehead as his store of energy was burning up faster than dry grass against Saphira's fiery breath.

_Allow me to help, little one._ Saphira's strong voice said as their connection was fully formed, the strength of a near full grown dragoness rushed through the bond between Rider and dragon, nearly dwarfing the stores of energy Eragon had stored from within his body.

The stone continued to collapse upon itself, yet no fragment or even a piece of dust appeared from the structure, it was as though the disappearing rock was never there in the first place.

"Machtig deloi stenr du fell, ser moi kan gata," Arya sang to the mountain, her voice would have made any bard, both elven or human, jealous of her honeyed and tinkling tone. Her own energy sparking to life and combined with Eragon and Saphira's energies. Dark forest green meeting with mesmerizing blue. The tunnel got longer, until shadows reached into the smoothed entrance so that without their enhanced eyesight they wouldn't have been able to see.

Eragon felt rather than saw as the tunnel slowly snaked its way downwards, as though a giant snake or worm had snaked its way through the hardened stone as easily as fresh soil. He could faintly recognize the magical signatures of Ronan and Bjartkoü as their combined magical energies formed their own tunnel, their signature was the color of endless white against the darkness of the world, easily recognizable. Eragon could see the faint various colors of the Eldunarí that were with the other two, he recognized Uznov's stormy grey and Draken's vibrant green easily though they weren't as bright as the living dragon and Rider.

He slowly wrapped his consciousness over the pommel of _Undbitr_, the stored energy was like a raging ocean and finally glad to be unleashed as he opened it up to their combined connection.

He felt everything at that moment, from every small flaw on the stone that made up Utgard to the tiniest worm digging its own trail in the softer patches of earth, he felt it all. He had never felt more connected to nature than he had then, even the many times spent meditating outside of Oromis's hut couldn't compare to the feeling of being a connected to a mountain. It was like a silent sentinel, a monstrous rock structure that held life that he doubted he would have been able to see even with his enhanced eyesight. He could feel it all, _everything._

He didn't know how the time passed, for all he knew it could have been going as fast as an man stuck in morasses and desperately trying to get out, or decades could have flown by them. But he knew it deep within him when they hit the middle, the very heart, of the mountain that was Utgard.

It was then Eragon could feel every vibration, from either a tumbling pebble or the footsteps of an ant. He could feel it all.

Eragon fell to the ground completely out of breath, his face had a visible sheen of sweat to it as he finished doing the impossible, he had tunneled into a mountain without the aid of tools, merely with magic and energy. And judging by the setting sun they had been there the entire afternoon.

Funny how time flies when your tunneling into the very heart of a mountain that could compete in size with one of the smaller mountains that made up the Beor Mountains.

"W-We did it," Eragon finally said as he continued to gasp for breath, all of the energy he had stored within himself and half of _Unbitr _had been burned to do the impossible task. "We just tunneled straight into the very heart of Utgard in a whole afternoon."

"It took the dwarves years to hollow out Farthen Dür, several months to get to the heart of the mountain," Arya said with a small grin directed at the beaming Rider. "Orik won't be happy when he finds out a single human and an elf beat their record."

Eragon couldn't help but laugh at that, "No, I don't think he will!" He chortled thinking of how red in the face Orik would get and would probably moan about 'stupid humans and elves thinking they could beat the dwarves in anything to do about mining', "In their defense Farthen Dûr's a bit bigger than Utgard."

Arya gave him a faint smile, obviously amused, she then stood at the foot of the monstrous tunnel entrance, her pale hand sliding against the smooth stone that seemed to gleam in the sunlight, it felt as though it was but polished rock, the edges and flaws made for naught under the power that was magic and those who could wield the power.

Eragon then gave his two companions, one who was half of his heart and soul and one who held the other half, and beckoned them forward with a wave of his hand. "Well, what are we waiting for? Our home is yet to be complete," he spoke jovially, hope and pride burning in his dark brown eyes. For so long he had been weary of his already turbulent life becoming even more conflicted, always made aware of the threat of both Empire and Varden, of the Mad King and the idiotic King of Surda, one who wished to enslave him with shackles that could never be broken and the other wishing for his death.

Eragon would have preferred death than the fate that his older brother was cursed to carry, though he'd gladly take Orrin and his band of merry fools down with him.

Now as he looked down upon their creation birthed from the strongest of magic and earth, he felt peace. Perhaps because of the fact that not even a hundred miles to the north was Carvahall. His home. Even though it was nothing but soot and ash and broken buildings, it was where he had been born and raised. Even though Carvahall no longer lived on, its people still survived like they had done for countless generations. The village may be nothing more than ghostly memories, always set in the past and never in the future nor even the present, the memories were what made Carvahall his home, and the home of his family and comrades.

This mountain was his home now. With the eleven armies amassing up north and conquering the northern parts of the Empire. Ceunon having already fallen, and from what Eragon had heard thorough the rumors of the people, utterly destroyed by the fair warriors and magicians who had descended upon the Empire like a firestorm against dry kinder, Galbatorix had more than enough worries of being boxed in by both the Varden and the elven armies boxing the Empire, what significance was one lone mountain hidden amongst the haunted forest where he had lost half his men?

Eragon stopped his thoughts from wondering as he slowly descended the tunnel, adjusting his pace as the tunnel got steadily steeper in descent, Arya fell into step besides him while Saphira crawled behind them, her wings close to her back in order to not scratch the tender and important scaly flesh against the rock.

"Brisingr," Eragon muttered softly, the sound echoing slightly in the spacious tunnel. Immediately flames sparked to life at his fingertips, the fire a great magnificent blue against the darkness, the azul flames licked at his fingertips but they did not burn.

Eragon lifted the palm that held the flickering blue flames high, no shadows were visible due to the smoothed tunnel where there were no obstruction nor ridges, the shadows of Eragon, Arya, and Saphira came to life, their dark figures flickering in the blue light, making their forms appear rather stretched out against the darkened stone.

The only sounds that came from the three were the soft barely noticeable footsteps of Arya, so soft it was as though she were a hunter tracking a stag, barely a sound came from her despite her wearing some of her chainmail armor. Eragon's footsteps were much more audible and apparent, the occasional jostle of his chainmail becoming apparent as he did not have the same grace as Arya, who even amongst the fair elves was a princess amongst them. Saphira's booming footsteps seemed to echo around the tunnel like a thunderstorm, her sharp claws _clicking _and _clacking_ against the hardened stone.

It was only when Eragon paused, as did the others, did they realize they had finished their slow descent into the heart of the mountain, their obstruction being the end of the tunnel, just pure rock and other hardened minerals that stood before them.

Eragon half expected to hear the heartbeat of a giant booming through the rock, making the whole structure shudder with each heartbeat, but instead he only heard silence. Pure and utter silence. Eragon closed his eyes in concentration, his consciousness searching for his pupils and those long dead who taught them everything he never had time to learn. He found them easily, being so deep into the mountain meant much less life, or at least larger life that held more energy and thus larger magical signatures. If he focused hard enough he could see and feel the small glimpses of the glinting life blood embedded into the mountain, barely noticeable to the unassuming mind but if one were to know where to look, it humbled Eragon somewhat to know that even a mile or so down in frozen rock, life still existed in a place so dark and desolate.

Eragon and the others backed up as the side of the tunnel to their left suddenly shuddered and wavered, as though it was merely a mirage made up by the delusional and dehydrated mind that had been stuck in the Hadarac Desert. Slowly but surely the rock retreated itself into the sides, the rock forming a hole just like theirs that slowly enlarged. A head poked in from the hole, looking at the trio, his palm alight with fire the most purest of white, masking his face in soft shadows. Behind him the large gleaming golden eye of Bjartkoü glowed in the darkness.

"Glad to see we caught up to you," Ronan stated as he slowly edged forward towards his mentors and Arya, he wiped his sweaty brow the end of tunic as he looked at the trio, his hazel eyes burning in both excitement and pride.

Pride because he proved himself capable of doing what his mentor and an elf who had been practicing with magic since before his father was born was able to do, not as good obviously. But it still please him to know how much he was improving, had Eragon never discovered him to be a Rider he probably still wouldn't have even known of the Ancient Language nor magic itself.

"Glad to see you made it, Ronan." Eragon greeted his student with a raised him –not the one alight with magical fire- before locking gazes with Bjartkoü. He raised a single brow, "Was there any trouble?"

_None that couldn't be fixed,_ Bjartkoü's deep voice rumbled inside Eragon's head, his thoughts also projected to the minds and consciousness of both Saphira and Arya._ We may be tired in the morning, but I'm sure we all agree that it was well worth it, Eragon-elda._

"I'm glad to hear that," Eragon said with a small smile, "And I'm sure a couple days of rest after this day of toil is over would be just. I'm sure you and Saphira can hunt without fear of unneeded eyes, as long as you stick to the Spine." Eragon turned nostalgic, "There are many large mammals in the Spine," the Rider winced as he remembered one of his hunting trips that turned sour quite fast. "The bears are quite large and deadly as well."

Saphira rumbled in pleasure at the prospect of the hunt. _To a human perhaps, but not to a dragon. Especially when there are two of us on the hunt._

Eragon chuckled, knowing that Saphira's boast was well founded and very true. He pitied the animals who found themselves in the predator gazes of a dragon. "Shall we begin?" He asked where every nodded their heads in agreement, Saphira and Bjartkoü trying to not bump their heads against the stone.

Eragon closed his eyes in concentration, holding to his leftover stores of energy with an iron grip, the energy trapped under his grasp, with a slow inhale of breath Eragon readied himself for the spell that was to come, the hardest and most complicated of spells that would make this unhallowed mountain the exact opposite, hallow.

Together the human, the half human elf hybrid, and elf spoke strong and swift, their voices mixing with one another's with startling accuracy, their voice bounced off of the caves adding in to the mystical effect. They then spoke the spell, the three spoke of rock moving and shifting, of it expanding and hallowing, of ores long rooted in its rocky prison to disappear, of rock to simply disappear within itself. Had anyone else been there not familiar with the Ancient Language their heads would have spun at the fast paced spell casters, their hearts pumping as some hidden instinctive sense told them of power well above their knowledge was unleashed upon the land, forever changing and shifting it to the musings of mortals and immortals alike.

A few words were common in the long spell, "Deloi. Ethgri. Fell. Fram. Moi. Stenr. Thrysta."

As they spoke and channeled every piece of energy they had left within their bodies, Saphira and Bjartkoü channeling their great strength to that of their Riders, the Eldunarí pouring countless decades of compressed energy into the two Riders as though life depended on it. Slowly but surely the entire surrounding stone shifted and wavering, the stone started to expand and move away from the group of intelligent beings that made up three of the five great races of Alagaesia.

Eragon knew not how long they stood there, with the spell that seemed nearly endless being spoken through their lips, their hands raised upwards as they continued to feed the burning fire that was the spell with their life force. A bead of sweat trickled down Eragon's brow and unto the ground, Ronan's cheeks were reddened as he continued to feed his energy to the all consuming fire, even Arya looked somewhat exhausted as her brilliant jade eyes dulled ever so slightly.

The wall of surrounding earth continued to move backwards upon itself, expanding and expanding until the sight of the wall went past their vision, impossible to see in the darkness. The only way they knew were the walls continued to expand and move forward was because of their spell. The only sounds audible was the faint sound of stone shifting and moving, and the soft quickened breath of the three magicians who had never before done such a large or expansive spell in their lives, not ever Arya could claim to hallow out a mountain, nor could she think of any notable elven magicians who could claim the same.

And then the three magicians and the dragons felt it, the shifting rock beating against the thick outer layer of the mountain. They could tell that the small bubble of nothing had reached where they wanted it, where the ceiling was still half a mile or so thick, with only the two tunnels connecting them to the outside world. Immediately the three spoke another spell, a spell that halted the magical energy that fueled the moving rock and mineral, commanding it to stop. After several minutes of chanting they felt the moving solid come to a grinding halt, having been stopped near the thick crust of Utgard.

The trio of spell casters fought the urge to let their legs and knees give way, instead opting to fall upon their hands and knees as they struggled to claim breath. Even Saphira and Bjartkoü's heads drooped to the ground, their nostrils flaring as they greedily sucked in air as though they were about to suffocate. Neither of the few remaining dragons had ever used so much energy, they found it near impossible to even lift their wings, much less stand up and walk around.

"Did we…" Ronan suddenly hacked a violent stream of coughs, exhaustion set on his face clear as day. "Did we do it?" He asked weakly after the fits subsided enough for him to draw breath and speak what was on everyone's minds.

Eragon slowly nodded his drooping head, a small smile gracing his haggard face, "Aye. We did it."

Ronan groaned as he fell unto his back, his arms and legs splayed out before him eagle-spread. His broad chest heaving for air, his cheeks of dark and reddened vermillion slowly disappearing back into tanned flesh. His eyelids were drooping ever so slightly, his gaze glazy as though he had just awoken from a deep slumber. His exhausted features were the same upon Eragon's face, though Arya was only slightly red in the cheeks.

"Can we _not_ do that again, Eragon-elda? I don't think my energy or lungs could take another mountain. Mayhap we can just stick to a small hill next time please?" The newest addition to the Riders pleaded to the elder Rider.

Had Eragon had the energy to laugh or at least chuckle he would have, understanding the young boy's perspective on their latest project, something that he agreed wholeheartedly. Hallowing out a mountain had taken all of the energy stored within _Undbitr_ and his own stores in both body and Beloth the Wise. He could scarcely feel the faint magical signatures of Unzov, Drakan, or the other Eldunarí. Their normally energy stores which had once appeared to be blazing and vibrant suns had been reduced to a mere bonfire with light flickers of dull colors, the fact that they still had enough energy to still burn with the power only a dragon could hope to hold was not lost to Eragon. No wonder Galbatorix was so powerful, if he and his friends with their small assortment of Eldunarí could hollow out a mountain, it sent shivers and chills down Eragon's spine at the mere thought of the hundreds of Eldunarí that was in the possession of the Mad King was capable of, it was rather unnerving and unsettling to the young Rider.

"Are we all alive, nobody a dried up husk from magical depletion?" Ronan asked as he looked around, counting the different heads with a slightly dazed look, as though he had drunken from one of the rather toxic cacti in the Hadarac Desert that sent hallucinations to the mind. Once he counted the heads and saw that nobody had perished at the rather taxing spell that had just taken place, he laid his head back against the dark and cold mountain rock, opting to get in some well deserved rest after losing so much of his energy to create their home.

"We should rest," Arya said softly, soft barely noticeable bags had appeared under her vibrant eyes that clashed against her snow white skin. Even to her, an elf, the spell had been one of the most taxing and energy consuming in her hundred years of life. The only thing that could compare to that was when she had sent Saphira's egg across the world to the Spine, where it appeared before Eragon, where it all started.

Eragon had already slowly sat against the cold stone, he leaned back against Saphira's scaly hind leg, her large wing covering him up like a blanket while her body heat warmed his cooling body with ease. He noticed Ronan doing the same, Bjartkoü's stark white wing seemed to glow in the darkness. He gestured to Arya to sit next to him, he saw her hesitance at sleeping so close to him and scooted further down so not to create discomfort. He had just gotten her back, there was no need to make a complete fool of himself and possibly ruin their friendship, again.

Arya slid down Saphira's hind leg, even when sitting down her actions and grace reminded Eragon of something feline and exotic, something alienish but still beautiful. As the weight of his eyelids grew to the weight of several full grown dragons, Eragon slowly drifted off into sleep.

A small soft smile graced his lips as he listened to the booming heartbeat of Saphira and her breathing, acting like the soothing lullabies his aunt had used to sing to him and Roran when they had been young. He glanced to his right and saw Ronan already asleep and snoring the night away, Bjartkoü 's tail shifting in his sleep peacefully. He focused on Arya the last.

Eragon had never truly seen her asleep, as he did not count the time she had been forced to stay asleep to slow down the poison that burned into her veins made by the Shade Durza to count. She looked younger, despite her immortal appearance. Years of worry, conflict and above all, grief, seemed to wash away as she slept. A small barely noticeable content smile quirked her perfect lips, making them open slightly as she breathed softly.

Eragon had never thought her to be more beautiful than at that moment, despite himself he scooted closer and brushed away a stray lock of her raven dark hair that rested against her pale cheek. "Stydia mor'ranrer, Arya Dröttingu."

Eragon leaned his head against Saphira's warm hind leg, as he closed his eyes he couldn't help but smile contently. For the first time in what must been years –it certainly felt that way to Eragon- he felt content. But more of all he felt one thing more…

He felt _safe._

* * *

><p><strong>Ancient Language<strong>

Ristvak'baen – Place of Sorrow

Deloi moi – Earth change.

Machtig deloi stenr du fell, ser moi kan gata – Mighty stone of the mountain, move to form a path.

Brakkla – Eeduce

Brisingr – Fire

Ethgri – Invoke

Fell – Mountain

Fram – Forward

Stenr – Stone

Thrysta – Thrust, compress

Stydia mor'ranrer, Arya Dröttingu – Rest peacefully, Princess Arya.

* * *

><p><strong>I felt like this chapter was a bit of trouble to write. Before people go off saying that Utgard in the books cant possibly be that big enough to house an army and still be that big for dragons to somewhat fly around in… Have you realized what site you're on? For my story Utgard is around the size of the smallest mountain in the Beor Mountains, for the sake of the plot it's pretty damn big.<strong>

**Sorry for those wishing for a bit of action, seeing as this was just a stepping stone for the story to progress I just had to show how their base was made, call me a perfectionist but I always have to make sure I've done everything to the last detail. I liked writing chapter with action, but I also see the reason to explain things and help make my story more real to you guys, the readers. I already know what's going on and what's going to happen (I'm the writer) and I want you guys to get it too. I did leave a good ol' Arya/Eragon moment there at the end though, what do ya think of that? Again sorry for the lack of action but I personally hate it when there is a dramatic change of setting and the author never really tells us, they're like "oh yeah we're now in a giant hollow lobster shell under water with sea snakes protecting us' and we didn't know that till now. **


	22. Shattered Minds and Broken Hearts

Eragon and the others had rested for a few days before even thinking of continuing their quest to making the now hollowed out Utgard habitable. At the moment the hallow mountain was just nothing but a cone shaped bubble underneath layers of rock, something that wouldn't exactly befit a place where humans lived under, though at the moment there were only technically five residents at the moment, for the Eldunarí did not count as living beings.

Eragon noticed how quiet Ronan had been since they had arrived, he often found the young teen sitting near the top of Utgard and staring out to the north with a homesick look. Eragon hoped Ronan had enough common sense to not leave the safety of the mountain to return to his home to just visit. They had to be cautious, they were still in the Empire and who knows if Galbatorix had sent troops farther up north in preparation to counter the Elven army that was flooding the north.

"Have you seen Arya?" The Rider asked his student who was propped against Bjartkoü's thick thigh, Ronan looked up from a scroll concerning the details of the surrounding creatures that made the Spine their home and looked at his mentor with confusion.

"I thought she was with you." Ronan asked confused.

"No, I haven't been able to find her since we awoke and after I told her…" Eragon trailed off hesitantly as he slid down the wall and sat in front of both Rider and dragon with a troubled look.

Ronan looked at him with understanding. "You just have to give her time, Eragon." The young Rider told his mentor and tutor with a surprising amount of knowledge and patience. "You did just plant a big explosion spell on her, don't blame her. I went through it, _you_ went through it, she's reacting the same as we did."

Eragon rubbed a hand through his dark locks in thought. He sighed again wearily, "I think she's ignoring me." The young rebel confessed.

"No, she can't be. She's ignoring me too, so obviously she's just upset, not at us but at the source." Ronan said as he idly trailed a finger across one of Bjartkoü's stark white scales. "You told her about the Eldunarí, 'course she wants to be alone."

"We need to talk about it, keeping your thoughts and emotions bottled up was never a good idea of mine." Eragon said as he stood up with determination and decided that if he couldn't find Arya with his tracking skills, he'd just use magic.

He found her quite easily, she was outside of the hollowed out part of Utgard but she still remained on the mountain. Her vibrant green aura was easily to find in the darkness of the world, but it unnerved him when he realized where the elven princess was, along with what appeared to be several Eldunarí.

"She's at Ristvak'baen," Eragon said wearily as he rubbed his temples in a futile attempt to stave off the impending migraine that was surely to come. "Out of all the places, she has to be at Ristvak'baen."

"Well there aren't exactly any other places _besides_ Ristvak'baen," Ronan pointed out, "Technically speaking we're in a giant bubble under thick layers of rock and metal. We haven't even started to build anything, its just walls and a floor."

"Not helping, Ronan." Eragon grunted to his student and fellow Rider as he strode out of the empty space that Ronan and Bjartkoü had decided to sleep in. The former champion of the Varden quickly headed in the direction of the main tunnel that led to the very summit of the mountain that made up their home.

* * *

><p>He found her easily enough. While her pale skin nearly blended in with the fresh snowfall, her dark locks of hair stood out as well as her emerald eyes. Arya didn't acknowledge his approach, even though both could hear the sounds of crushed snow underneath his thick boots and the movement of rubble as he came closer.<p>

She was leaning against a wall that looked ready to collapse, the floor in front of here as well as parts of the wall had long since corroded due to the harsh elements and now there was a giant hole in the outpost once thought to be unconquerable. Eragon's breathing stopped working slightly as he saw the Anora river gleaming before him with Palanacar valley gleaming a brilliant gold as autumn set in the countryside. Eragon looked down at the elven princess who looked so out of place in such a ruined building that it took him a second to realize that she was cradling Uznov's Eldunarí with such tenderness that it was like she was holding her firstborn child for the first time.

"You're ignoring me," Eragon said after a couple moments of silence. Arya didn't respond to his statement and instead opted to look north with a look in her eyes that made Eragon realize how old she really was, she was near one hundred give or take a year or so.

Eragon sat beside her, his legs were free of the ground as he too sat at the very edge of the hole, the only thing that would break his fall would be the very edge of the mountainside easily several hundred feet downwards. But his gut told him that the rock was secure and wouldn't give way under his weight, so he sat down besides the elf with no hesitation.

"…. Have you spoken to him?" Eragon gestured to Uznov's stormy grey Eldunarí that was currently pulsing softly with energy as the dead dragon and former Elder took the energy from the sun and made it his own.

"Yes," Arya's answer was short and to the point, but Eragon could hear the waver in her honeyed tone ever so slightly. He watched as her arms wrapped around the large Eldunarí with such strength had it not been an Eldunarí it could have been crushed by her amazing physical strength.

"Arya, tell me what's wrong," Eragon pleaded as he abandoned all his subtlety that he had in his hybrid body and instead looked at the love of his immortal life with such concern that it seemed to break Arya out of whatever stupor she had been in.

"The dragons live on, Eragon." Arya told the young Rider as she at the Eldunarí with such wonder and awe it was like she was looking at a miracle: a blessing, but also a curse. "But as slaves to the Mad King." Arya's tone turned so sour that Eragon winced at that blunt yet accurate statement. "I've felt their minds, I've seen some of the memories they are willing to part with, I've seen what they've gone through. The feeling of one's mind being broken into over and over during the course of a century was one they endured until they… _shattered._" Arya continued on as Eragon listened with a heavy heart knowing how right she was.

"They're not completely sane, are they?" Arya asked softly as she looked at the peacefully pulsing Eldunarí with such heartbroken eyes it ached Eragon's already scarred heart. "The Eldunarí? They can't be, its simply impossible. Not even the mind of a dragon can withstand the cunning of Galbatorix as he ripped their minds apart with but a few spoken words, like a disease he spread his insanity to them. How they are capable of being somewhat sane at certain times is nothing short of amazing, but they aren't completely healed are they?"

"No." Eragon's mouth felt as parched as the Hadarac as he spoke the truth to the elven princess. "No they aren't healed, and I doubt they ever will be. The loss of their Riders and the plague of Galbatorix in their minds were too much even for the mightiest beings in Alagaesia. Though they have improved somewhat since I've found them, they still live in a world of pain and sorrow, a world where I cannot help them…. I wish I could, but I am not their Rider."

"Then what keeps them from turning back into what they were before?" Arya asked.

"Hope." Eragon said simply as he looked at her. "Hope is what keeps them somewhat sane, what keeps them stabile. After everything that has happened in the past hundred years…. Hope is all they have left."

"Hope doesn't save everything, Eragon." Arya looked at him with those ageless eyes of vibrant green that seemed to pierce into his very soul. "Hope is both a blessing and curse to those who have it in their hearts. Hope breeds confidence but also arrogance. Hope breeds security but also fear. It is a double-edged sword that must be wielded for a certain person. If you were to lose hope, fear and despair would set in faster than death and what was once a goal will be just a faded dream that never comes true."

"You know a lot of things, don't you Arya?"

Had Arya been anyone but Arya, she may have scoffed at that. Instead she merely said, "It comes with age. I've lived more than two human lifetimes, Eragon and if the war goes well than I may live for another couple human lifetimes. But I've seen things that few have seen, even among my kin. I've seen death, nearly experienced it, felt it, and I've dealt it those who deserved it or didn't deserve it. Few of my kin prior to them joining the war have even split blood in nigh a hundred years, and those my age have never known how close death always is. Being a race of immortal beings does that to you, as well as the fact that we don't kill animals for our needs of survival. Death is but an illusion to some of my kin."

"Are you glad to know better than your elven brothers and sisters?" Eragon asked hesitantly, knowing that Arya (even amongst her own kind and race) was an outsider of sorts.

"I… don't know." Arya admitted as she looked at the horizon with a look in her eyes that showed she was obviously thinking hard on the question. "Aside from those who were born before the Fall, none of my brothers or sisters of my age have seen death. We elves, we _thrive_ on life. We are immortals whose life can only be snipped by steel, magic, or poison, and few things can best an elf on a bad day. We use our magic to grow life out of nothing; we are surrounded by life. Death doesn't haunt our forest like it does your Spine."

"Do you think that mindset will set back the elven army?" Eragon asked curiously, seeing as the elves had finally left their monstrous forest and had descended upon the northern Empire with the fury of a thousand dragons. "If few even know of death itself, what would battles do to them?"

"I do not know, Eragon. Elves are good at adapting, its how we've survived so long." Arya said. "But lets not talk about my brethren, but return to the subject of the Eldunarí." Arya turned to look at Eragon with such seriousness in her vibrant jade eyes that Eragon nearly lost his breath. "If you were to kill Galbatorix and usher in an era of peace that has been sorely missed by all races, what then? What happens to the Eldunarí? Those that cannot be saved, those whose minds are shattered into thousands of shards with no hope of healing?"

"I'd destroy them." Eragon said softly, Arya looked at him with a small amount of shock in her eyes so he continued on. "I'm not Galbatorix, Arya." The rebel Rider said stubbornly, "Despite what Orrin and others think, I'm not some mad man with false visions of grandeur, I'm not a murderer. I'm a killer," Eragon admitted with no small amount of pain at the truthful statement. "But I only kill for what's right, I fight for those who cannot fight back. Is it odd that I use war as a means to peace? That with each drop of blood spilt from a man's body will slowly turn the tide of whichever side closer to victory? Is that what peace is, Arya? A brief respite from war? I wouldn't know; I'm still new to all of this." Eragon admitted with a small chuckle at the thought, "I had only been fighting with the Varden for what, a year, before I fled? You know I'm not good with public speaking, so I don't have an excuse for fighting. All I have is hope. The hope for a better tomorrow."

"A good goal; a noble goal," Arya murmured so softly that Eragon wouldn't have been able to hear it over the screeching wind that blew against the ruins of Edoc'sil with feverant fervor.

Eragon shrugged off the slight amount of praise with a small smile, but he never stopped looking into Arya's green eyes. They were like guarded pieces of cool jade, but he could see that deep in those icy green eyes there was a hint of warmth as she looked back into Eragon's own warm brown eyes. He didn't notice his hand holding Arya's until she shifted ever so slightly, but to his great joy she didn't pull away like she would have done back when they were in Ellesméra but instead held his hand without complaint with a small smile teasing its way to her elegant facial features.

"I know that you are more experienced in practically everything life has to offer," Eragon said slowly as he looked down at the rugged yet beautiful scenery that was stretched out before them. "But I do know a few things about hope and how it can affect a man. If it were not for hope, the heart would break."

"A wise motto, but an even wiser meaning," Arya said softly.

"It's the truth," Eragon stated with that stubborn look in his eyes that Arya knew only the man before her could ever hope to have. "Where would we be if not for hope?" He asked but the soft unspoken words picked at Arya's thoughts, as though some invisible specter was whispering in her pointed ears. _Where would _you_ be without hope?_

She'd be dead. That much she knew, or she'd wish she were dead and had long passed into the Void.

When she had been captured by the most ruthless of creatures that dwelled the land, a monster whose very name sent shivers down a man's spine as much if not more than the Ra'zac, she had nothing. The shade Durza had taken everything from her. Her companions, her lover, and her duty. Those three things were all that mattered to the then younger but rebellious elven princess.

Glenwing, Liduen, _Fäolin._ They had been the only three that had even been close to her closed off heart, Fäolin more than the others. When they had died, slain before her very eyes in the matter of mere seconds, bright happy lights filled with life snuffed out by an all consuming darkness, it had nearly destroyed her. And the while the knowledge that Saphira's egg was out of the hands of Durza and thus the King, it dwindled at the prospect of living under the hospitality (or lack thereof) of a merciless shade and the whims of the Mad King.

Hope was all she had in that dark cell, as she sat on the thin padded leather sheet that acted as her bed. It was all she could hold in her shattered heart as she was tortured day by day, night by night, only to be healed and have the cycle repeat all over again.

Hope is what kept her from madness, though it had come close. She could still remember the lone white rose found on her bed from an admiring guard (the only kindness she would receive in Gilead) that had grown into a thorn bush before it grew so large it broke through the strong rock prison and carried her towards the sky, towards the stars. She had thought herself to be back in Du Weldenvarden, leaning on a large tree branch with the sunlight streaming down upon her and the sounds of life surrounding her. The sound of Glenwing's birdcalls, Liduen reciting his beautiful poetry that could make a stone-faced dwarf weep, Fäolin's laughter that sounded like tinkling bells. Before the harsh reality set back in and Arya found herself back in her cell. Her friends were dead; her comrades of nearly twenty years had been torn from her in mere seconds, literally just a blink of an eye to an undying race.

But in those few precious seconds, Arya lost everything.

"I know I'm not Fäolin, Arya." Eragon said softly as he squeezed her hand in comfort when he felt the small yet noticeable shift as Arya tensed at the mention her dead friend and lover's name. "But I do love you…"

"Eragon…"

"Please let me continue, Arya." Eragon pleaded with her, all of his composure that he had gained from all those months spent hiding like an exile leaving him as it always did when he was near Arya. "I love you, you're the light in my dark world. My heart is split in halves, one half belonging to Saphira and the other to you."

"Doesn't your heart belong to you?" Arya asked, still unsure on how to precede the fact that once again Eragon had exclaimed his love to her yet again. But there was something different about this conversation that was different from that conversation in her rooms at the Palace.

Eragon chuckled, but it was a dry and somewhat bitter laugh, "My heart has never belonged to me."

Eragon clenched his hands and held onto Arya's as though it was a lifeline. "Arya, I know that our difference in age is something that concerns you, and while some would agree with you I don't care. I love you and I'm willing to prove it."

"How?" Arya asked as she prepared to pull her hands away from Eragon's grasp.

"By being your friend," Eragon said with such softness in his tone that Arya could scarcely hear him.

Arya blinked at that, a near emotional outburst considering it was Arya, before she spoke almost dumbstruck, "What?"

Eragon's eyes turned downcast for a brief moment, before he looked back at her with those intense brown eyes that seemed to freeze her in place. "I know that right now, you have no romantic feelings for me. You still mourn for Fäolin, and I've hurt you for trying to win your hand back in Ellesméra. I was a stupid fool, I was brash and cocky and I hurt you."

"If you don't wish to love me in a romantic way, than I don't mind. As long as we keep the friendship we hold dear, I am content. I love you, but I don't want to hurt you." Eragon said sincerely, "I would rather be friends with you than to lose you completely."

Arya just stared at him with those ageless eyes, shock burning in those vibrant green eyes. _He's changed,_ Arya realized for the second time since she had found Eragon after losing all contact with him for half a year._ He's no longer a boy; he's grown._

"Arya… I know that you loved Fäolin and may never love me as I love you. We could remain friends for centuries and I would be happy with that. I just want one thing, _one _thing." Eragon looked at her with pleading eyes, like a man laying down his heart and soul for all to see (and in a way he was). "I want a _chance_."

"I want the chance to win you over, either romantically or just as friends. I know that right now neither of us are ready to be romantically interested in each other, but I want the chance to have you love me like I love you." Eragon pleaded to the elf.

"And what if I can't, Eragon?" Arya questioned, her stoic and cold personality starting to seep into her tinkling tone. "What if I don't, what if I could never love another again. I've lost so many dear to my heart, how do you not know I'm like one of the Eldunarí, that I'm shattered? But with a broken heart rather than a shattered mind?"

"Because you're not, Arya." Eragon rebuked hotly, obviously angered at the mere notion that Arya was emotionally broken. She _wasn't_, she had just been through so much and had learned that closing off one's emotions was sometimes better than holding onto those emotions.

But Eragon would swear in both his native language and the Ancient Language (a language where one could never lie, mind you) that he would make her feel again. If she loved him or she merely tolerated him, he wouldn't care. He'd do anything for her. He would move the Beor Mountains, he would flood the Hadarac Desert, he would dry the sea to the last drop, and he'd go through the Void and back, if it just got him a small yet genuine smile. He loved her, and love can make a person do the greatest of things if they did it for the one they loved.

"Let me help you," Eragon nearly begged the elven princess sitting before him. "I can prove you wrong, if you just give me the chance."

Arya looked at him, looking somewhat startled at his proclamation. For a couple of seconds there was naught but silence, and when Eragon's hopes started to dip ever so slowly she spoke. "You're stubborn, you know that?" Arya gave him a smile that looked a little strained, either from amusement or something else Eragon had no clue. "But it wouldn't be you if you weren't stubborn," Arya conceded.

"It seems to run strong in my family," Eragon offered helpfully.

Arya smiled at that, a true and genuine smile that Eragon loved to see but rarely ever saw. "You're the only one who has access left to my heart, Eragon… Maybe there is a chance of us being together, as you wish it to be."

Eragon's head shot up at that, his intense brown eyes wide in surprise and barely concealed joy at the mere prospect of Arya returning his feelings.

"I want a chance; a chance to be whole again." Arya decided as she looked at the rugged landscape spread out before them, smalls flutters of snow stuck to her raven locks while her eyes seemed far off as though in fond memory. Arya glanced at him and smiled again, something that Eragon was more than happy to follow. "I want to see how this will work, I want to see how this will play out. I accept your offer; I want a chance as much as you do."

Eragon had never felt happier in his life; the only event that could compare to this was Saphira's hatching. He knew that neither of them were emotionally prepared to love one another like he hoped; but Arya didn't reject his offer like she had during their stay in Ellesméra. She knew as well as he how much he had changed, how she had changed; they both changed but it seemed to bring them closer than ever.

Eragon returned his attention back towards the landscape with a smile stretched on his face; Brom would have probably called him a love-struck fool had he been here.

He was, but that didn't mean the old man could haunt him from behind the grave. He may be in love, but he wasn't a fool. Not anymore.

* * *

><p>"I found this," Arya said after a couple minutes of silence as she pulled something from underneath Uznov's Eldunarí. Eragon saw a glint of silver before he saw the entire thing. "Where'd you find that?" Eragon asked confused.<p>

A dagger was held in her outstretched palms, its wicked blade curved ever so slightly a couple inches or so above the hilt. The hilt itself was wrapped in what appeared to have once been midnight black leather though some of the pigment had left through use. now there were just small faint smudges of lighter color from where fingers had wrapped themselves around the hilt. In the pommel was a gemstone that was as clear as glass, but even without using magic Eragon could sense the energy burning within the gem.

It was beautiful, Eragon thought to himself as he stared at the dagger as though mesmerized. The color of the metal was the color of beaten silver, but not even the precious metal could even compare to the dagger's shine. If anything it looked like _Undbitr_ and _Zar'oc_ just without the sapphire and crimson tint to its blade. As he looked at the beautiful dagger he noticed the faint yet prominent etchings of what could only be numerous runes etched in the Ancient Language.

Wordlessly Arya handed him the dagger, she gave it to him slowly as though presenting him with a piece of brittle glass set to crumble under the slightest of movement, and Eragon wrapped his tanned fingers around the soft hilt and found out, to his surprise, that the dagger fit him well and felt like _Undbitr_ did just in a smaller form.

He held the blade closer to his eyes, noticing that the shining curved blade reminded the young Rider of the moon's shining crescent before he returned his attention to the runes etched forever in the strange metal.

Eragon frowned slightly as he read the runes, some he knew but some he didn't recognize from Oromis's lessons. A few looked a bit odd, like someone had taken a word and moved a couple of the letters until it looked both different but still recognizable enough to realize its meaning. "These runes… they aren't like those that Oromis-elda taught me."

Arya looked at him with a knowing smile, "That's because those runes are even older than him. Older than my mother and father, they are the Runes of Old. As the elves call them."

Eragon scrunched his brows at that, having never heard that term nor the subject before. "So, this was a former set of runes now modernized?" he asked curiously as he looked at the strange runes with keen interest.

"Aye, it is rare to see these. Most have forgotten the Old Runes, but obviously this isn't the case. Not that surprising considering what this weapon, is" Arya stated.

Eragon looked at her confused, not having even the slightest clue on what she was saying. Arya looked at him with a small amount of shock when she saw the blank look in his eyes. "You don't know what this is?" She asked surprised as she gestured towards the deadly looking dagger.

Eragon shook his head, while Arya turned thoughtful. "I know that you're training was cut short due to the Battle of the Burning Plains, but to not know about Blödhren is nothing short of surprising. Oromis-elda never spoke of it?"

"Oromis-elda had so little time to teach me," Eragon defended both himself and his master. "But no; he's never mentioned Blödhren to me. It's the blade correct?"

Arya nodded her head before gesturing for Eragon to hand her the fine blade which he gave her, she tilted the blade ever so slightly that when the blade caught the sunlight it suddenly caught ablaze in a brilliance of light. "Blödhren is one of the most fabled weapons of the Riders, I'm surprised that Galbatorix never took it when he defeated Vrael." She mused slightly as she looked at the blade with no small amount of awe and wonder, as though she was looking at the most wondrous thing in the world.

"This blade belonged to the leader of the Riders. There is speculation that the blade itself was forged by Eragon, your namesake," Arya said whilst surprising Eragon. "It was said that once Eragon first bonded with his dragon and peace reigned, he was in dire need of a weapon. And though he had a sword, he desired something else. He desired a dagger, and it was said he found metal that had come from the stars and his dragon –his name now long forgotten- had melted the strange ore with his strong dragon fire. Your namesake made this very weapon, it is a priceless artifact of both elven and Rider culture." She looked at him with those ancient eyes as her hand tightened around the hilt ever so slightly. "When Eragon fell, a new leader rose and this dagger was passed on to her. And when she died another leader came and the dagger was given to him. For thousands of years the dagger has been passed unto those who hold the mantle of Leader."

She held out the dagger, its metal still alight from the faint sunlight and the runes glowing softly with mystical energy. "Here, it is yours by right." She offered the dagger of past Riders to him, the dagger of his namesake.

"Arya…" Eragon murmured as he looked at the symbol of the Rider's hesitantly, he didn't trying to even attempt to hold the knife again. "I can't, I'm not the Leader of the Riders. To even hold that blade would do nothing but insult the former Riders, if I were to be in their ranks I'd probably have just finished my apprenticeship. Hell I never even _finished_ my apprenticeship."

Arya sighed at that, obviously annoyed even to even make a sound. "Eragon. You are the Leader of the Riders, Ronan and Bjartkoü follow and listen to you and I know they always will."

"Oromis-elda is…"

"No, he isn't." Arya said rather curtly. "He has told me this, he has told _you_ this. Oromis-elda is crippled and old, even by elven standards. He cannot lead a new era of Riders. Mentor them yes, but lead them no." Arya looked at him with such seriousness in them it nearly made Eragon's breath hitch. "_You_ are to lead them, Eragon."

Eragon looked down, finding a large amount of interest in the plummeting drop that was below him. Suddenly he chuckled dryly, "Heh. You know a year ago I was nothing more than a farm boy trying to make a meal from hunting trips and now… I don't even know what I am anymore."

Arya placed her hand on his shoulder, somehow that small amount of contact between them managed to make Eragon's insides squirm and his blood boiled enough to threaten staining his cheeks crimson red. "You are Eragon. You may no longer be what you once were, but you know what you are now. You're a warrior, a Rider, a comrade, a dear friend, a brother, and a teacher. You're a good man, Eragon Shadeslayer. Never forget that." As she spoke those last words she slowly handed Eragon the hilt of Blödhren.

Eragon looked at the ancient blade with precipitation, but seeing the encouraging nod from Arya he slowly wrapped his hand around the hilt and held it to the light. The runes seemed to glow and Eragon felt as though the energy that swirled within the clear gemstone in the pommel seemed to hum in approval.

Eragon couldn't help but laugh at that, obviously amused that the sword seemed to agree with Arya's words rather than his own.

Than again, Arya usually was the person most usually turned out to be right, now that Eragon thought of it.

Eragon opened his mouth to say something; but before the words could reach his lips, the sounds of footsteps crunching against the snow entered their enhanced hearing and both magicians turned their heads around to see who approached them.

Eragon blinked as he saw the doorway hide itself behind a mass of dark fur the color of night, amber eyes gleaming in the dark and gloomy atmosphere. One of the Shrrg pups, though Eragon could say they were puppies anymore as they were easily nearing the size of a pony, looked at Eragon dead in the eye. Intense brown meeting intelligent amber.

_So it appears they've finally gotten here,_ Eragon thought idly. Seeing as each Shrrg was now the size of a small horse, not to mention there being more than one, there had been no way to transport the Shrrg halfway across the continent. They would have struggled against the levitating spells like any sane being would do, and the amount of energy needed for that would have been exhausting and as Eragon needed ever bit of energy for the making of their home, he had Ronan sniff their scent so they could follow them on foot.

Eragon had to hand it to them; the fact that it only took the large wolves only a month or so to cover such a large distance was nothing short of amazing. The dark-furred Shrrg –Eragon really should name them- padded forward; his body seemed to move with the grace of a predator and despite his rather large size, Eragon knew that he was fast.

The Shrrg suddenly growled at Eragon, the rumbling tone echoing across the destroyed tower, the Shrrg glared down at the surprised Rider who had never been growled at by any of the Shrrg.

Instinctively Eragon reached out his mind towards the giant wolf's, like he had done with Cadoc so long ago in Thiernsford. Back then the horse had been startled but upon the calming touch of his soothing mind, had quickly calmed down. But when Eragon reached out his mind towards the animal, he felt something brush against his own consciousness as softly as a feather.

Eragon furrowed his brows at the soft contact, but it had disappeared as quickly as it came, chalking it up to his imagination Eragon continued on.

_Alpha._

The voice rang in his head, deep and guttural but still refined enough for Eragon to understand.

Eragon jerked at that and glanced around the destroyed tower wildly, wondering if someone had stumbled upon their new home. He saw nobody; just himself, Arya, and the dark Shrrg whose amber eyes continued to burn into his own.

_Alpha._

The voice spoke again, the deep rumbling that sounded like no human, dwarf, elf, or dragon; but instead its own unique tone. Eragon still saw nothing; but then realization burned into him like Saphira's fiery breath.

Eragon looked deep into the Shrrg's amber eyes; eyes that shone with amusement and intelligence. Eragon felt a chill crawl up his skin. Hesitantly Eragon spoke within the Shrrg's mind.

_Hello?_

The Shrrg looked at him almost smugly in his amusement; the male Shrrg cocked his head to the side slightly as though in puzzlement. He spoke yet again within his mind.

_Alpha._

* * *

><p><strong>Ancient Language <strong>

Blödhren – Blood Oath

* * *

><p><strong>Well hopefully no EragonxArya fans will track me down and try to kill me when I teased them getting together only to put them in the friend zone. I don't know about you put I personally hate it when people put people together literally within a couple minutes of knowing each other (Seen it before) and seeing as its Arya and Eragon, their relationship is something that they ease into. They don't suddenly love each other; though Eragon loves Arya he accepts the fact that she loved Fäolin for over twenty years and with his death finds it hard to show her feelings. They <strong>_**will**_** get together in the story, but it won't be sudden but I won't try to drag it on as I find neither realistic. **

**Before people go off saying that Eragon wouldn't just pronounce his love to Arya out of the blue; he did it in Ellesméra. I admit the move was rash, but Eragon is still a teenager and we all know teenagers are rather rash (I would know) I wanted to show that while Eragon has matured in this story, there are still parts of him that are reminiscent of Canon Eragon.**

**As for Blödhren, I know that there was never mention of any relic or so that the Leaders had that was passed down, but I want all of you guys to remember the blade, why? Because even though this is a fanfiction, I can still use symbols if I want to! Blödhren will play a very important part in the future.**


	23. Bonds

In hindsight Eragon should have expected something like this. After all, his life had completely done a corkscrew and nosedive from the clouds to the bottom of the sea for the past year and a half. He had become a Rider, something he never expected to happen. He killed a Shade, also not expected. He was the champion of the rebel army, the Varden, only to be betrayed by said rebel army. Again not expected. He found a dragon egg and her Rider. Honestly sometimes Eragon wanted to slam his head against the stone cold marble until it was nothing but useless rubble.

He was currently seated on the cold rough floor that was the hollowed out shell of Utgard, his back pressed against Saphira's flank. Ronan and Bjartkoü were nearby, Bjartkoü's stark white flank seemed to glow against the darkness. Arya was by his right, sitting in a meditative pose while looking at the sight before them with idle curiosity.

Six Shrrg, no longer pups but now ferocious beasts the size of a horse, sat in the semicircle of different races. The one who had actually spoken to Eragon via the mind sat in the middle, tongue lolling out of its giant maw like a common farmer's dog, but those amber eyes seemed to burn within Eragon like he had set a Brisingr spell within his body. Two Shrrg sat by their brother on the left, while neither of the Shrrg were as big as the one in the middle, they were only smaller by a few pounds and shorter by a few inches.

One was the color of snow, a massive beast with eyes as dark as coal. Eragon could see the bulging muscles underneath his shaggy coat.

Another was the color of the lightest shade of brown, so light the Shrrg looked like her coat had been dipped within honey. Her chest was the same color of white as her pack mate, though more of a cream color than that of freshly fallen snow. Her eyes were the color of the purest of amber. While she wasn't as muscular as her brothers, she looked like she could easily throw a man several meters with a single bat of her massive paw. Eragon could tell by a single gaze at her leaner form that she was without a doubt one of the fastest of the Shrrg, he would rather not find out how fast though. He didn't particularly feel like being chased down by a wolf the size of a stallion and with teeth as sharp and long as daggers.

Another one, obviously male, was the color of smoke. His grey coat was slightly shorter than the white male's coat, but as he shifted ever so slightly from where he sat Eragon couldn't help but think of storm clouds. Eyes as bright and cold as ice stared at him.

Another was a mix of black, white, and gristly grey. He looked like a normal wolf that dwelled within the ancient Spine, though was obviously of broader build and of greater height. He was the smallest though only by a few inches but made up for bulk. His eyes were different colors, with the left being an icy blue and the other a dark brown, nearly black, in color.

Eragon rubbed his hands through his dark, shaggy locks, as though the simple motion of tension would leave. Sadly it didn't work.

Ronan looked thoroughly uncomfortable, though that may have been because of the term all of the Shrrg had greeted him with. Bjartkoü was resting his giant head on the cold ground, his golden eyes staring at the Shrrg from behind his Rider.

"So…. You guys are intelligent." Ronan finally said, before he trailed off embarrassingly as all of the Shrrg looked at him.

"Ronan…" Eragon sighed wearily.

Ronan looked at his mentor with an indignant look, "What? I can't state the obvious?"

"No/_No."_ Eragon and Bjartkoü spoke at the same time, the White Rider looked at his companion with a look of annoyance rather than hurt.

Arya decided to intervene before Eragon and Ronan did typical human male things and fight one another; she directed her cool jade eyes on the searing amber of the dark Shrrg who had spoken to them. "You've been intelligent this whole time, why now have you informed us?"

The black furred wolf cocked his head, his tail thundering on the stone ground. Seeing as all of the magical beings had their consciousness within the dark Shrrg they could hear his reply as clearly as though he was actually talking. _We wished to wait until we had grown,_ the large wolf turned his attention to Eragon, _You know that animals are capable of thought, we have our own language, but instead of words we have growls, snarls, howls, and other sounds that suits any animal race. _

Eragon thought back to where his journey had first began, when Saphira and himself were guided by Brom as he taught them everything a Rider should know. He remembered Therinsford vividly, for he had spent much of his time wary of accidently running into his cousin, for Garrow's death was still fresh and felt as though a dagger coated in Seithr oil had been dug into his heart. He thought of Cadoc, the horse named after his grandfather, long since passed into the Void.

He had accidently brushed against the consciousness of his mount, had noted that despite the thoughts were jumbled and fast paced compared to that of a man's, there was no denying that Cadoc had been intelligent, how else could he have noticed the confused mind of Eragon when he delved into the roan's thoughts?

Oromis had Eragon spent much of the duration of his training simply sitting in the glade, instructing the younger Rider to open his mind to the minds of those around him, to pay attention to the smallest of beings to the largest, not just the minds of men and elves.

He had seen through the many eyes of ants just how greatly animals were intelligent, though they weren't capable of speech like humans, instead they had their own way of communication than words. The queen ant had commanded the servant ants just like a king did to his men, the soldier ants fought and died to protect the hive, just like how soldiers fight to protect their home and loved ones. They weren't so different, despite them being the size of a grain of oat. Eragon had known that they were intelligent, but here he was standing there with his tongue tied as he gazed at the Shrrg, who were no mere farm dogs that patrolled their homes, but beautiful and intelligent beasts.

Granted, the only way the Shrrg could actually communicate with anyone outside of their species was to use magic to allow them to project their thoughts, but the simple act confounded him.

_I still have so much to learn, I'm still so ignorant,_ Eragon thought to himself in shock, fully aware of how the underestimating of his surroundings could get themselves killed in the near future. If he ignored the past that spoke of intelligence in animals, than what would happen when he was against men with swords in hand and loyalty to the Mad King in their hearts? He was responsible for everyone here, though he knew that they wouldn't have wanted him to be, but he was. Eragon had found Ronan, had given him Bjartkoü's egg, well aware of the dangers that would plague the blacksmith's apprentice should the egg hatch. Ronan could never go back to his life in Ursür, just like Eragon could never go back to his life in Carvahall. He had damned a man younger then himself in this deadly game of war and Riders. But Eragon had been desperate; he knew that now as he thought of it.

He had been so tired of being alone, of being the sole hope and symbol of freedom. The hopes and dreams of the people, from humans to dwarves, from elves to Urgals, they all slammed onto the already staggering weight placed upon his unready shoulders, should he slip up once, a mere mistake, and the entire structure would come down like a house of glass.

Was it wrong of him to want another companion, another person to help shoulder the weight of the world? He would never have Ronan go through what he had, the pressures, both physical, mental, and political, of being the sole free Rider left in Alagaesia, well aside from Oromis who couldn't fight. He would think of that later, he already had enough problems going on.

"Whilst I now understand that you six are intelligent and capable of thought and conversation, albeit only mental. Why didn't you say so earlier, you have been growing for quite a long time, why now have you revealed it?" Eragon started as he looked at the black furred Shrrg that he assumed was the leader.

The black Shrrg cocked his head to the side, as though pondering Eragon's words. _You never asked,_ came the simple reply.

Eragon's eye threatened to twitch violently, "Oh, well excuse me." The Blue Rider said dryly.

Ronan actually looked hurt, "Why didn't you guys tell me?" the one who had saved the Shrrg when they had been but a few hours old said with a tone filled with hurt, obviously the monstrous wolves had dealt him a slight in not revealing they could talk.

_We're sorry, mother._ The black furred Shrrg whined out, like that of a pup getting caught doing something he shouldn't, if that pup was a two hundred pound beast with claws and fangs as sharp as blades, of course.

Bjartkoü snickered at that, his deep laugh a mighty rumble. The white dragon thought back to the day when he and Ronan had stumbled upon the Narga and the Shrrg, how he had deemed Ronan their new mother. Hindsight was amazing.

"Don't call me that!" Ronan yelled out, his tanned skin turning a violent shade of vermillion as Bjartkoü continued to laugh at the luck of his Rider. _Can I call you mother too?_ The great white dragon asked slyly.

_Why do the gods hate me so much?_ Ronan wondered as he looked up to the heavens that were hidden from his sight by the layers of rock that formed Utgard.

Arya would have rolled her eyes at the younger male, but refrained and instead focused upon the black Shrrg. "What does this mean now," the elven princess said with a surprising amount of bluntness. "Surely because you've revealed yourselves means that either two things will happen, you shall leave to return to the Beor Mountains, doubtful as you could have just done that instead of following us to the northern parts of the Spine. Or, you have instead decided you wanted something that could only be gained by being with us."

The Shrrg chuckled at that, well at least they assumed it was a chuckle. _Very good princess. You are correct in this,_ the black wolf sat upon taller, as though preparing to speak grim words. _We wish to help you._

"…. Come again?" Ronan questioned.

_While we were not born during the Fall, we know of it from you three,_ a quick glance at the dragons made the Shrrg amend, _sorry, five. We may not remember our birth home, but even we know of the destruction this Mad King will have upon the world, not just the Empire. Not to mention, you saved our lives,_ he nodded in Ronan's direction, before focusing on Eragon. _You are a Rider, whenever you come near the wind sings of your passing, the earth shudders as you walk. We aren't the only ones to hear this, surely other animals have noticed your presence. We wish to join you in your attempt to defeat the king. Humans, dwarves, elves, and Urgals are not the only ones in danger of the Rider's mad rage, everyone is in danger. You have your swords and magic, we have our teeth and claws. We can help you in battle… alpha._

"You called me this before, why?" Eragon wondered, for surely this Shrrg was the alpha of this pack.

_Ronan follows you, the princess follows you, the dragons follow you. And so shall we._ The Shrrg said simply. _You gave us a chance of life when you could have easily left us to defend ourselves, you are part of our pack now, our family. And we fight for our family._

Ronan and Arya shot Eragon a look, obviously waiting for his word. It still unnerved him that he was the de facto leader of this… rebel group? New Order of the Riders? Arya should be the leader, she did have several decades worth of experience on him.

There were only five of them, well six if you counted Sloan who was not taking part of this meeting for obvious reasons. Five beings against the entire world, the odds weren't exactly in their favor.

"_You did say we need people to our cause…. Think about it, how awesome would it be if we had a whole pack of Shrrg fighting with us? I know they would make even the most bloodthirsty imperial wet their pants and beg for mercy!"_ The words of Ronan when he had first brought home the large litter came to Eragon's thoughts.

Eragon really wanted to bang his head against the wall again. "Damn it Ronan, why is it that everything you say seems to foreshadow something?"

Ronan shrugged, "It's called common sense, Eragon-elda."

_Well at least we can say one thing,_ Saphira stated in his mind, at the silent prod of the statement from Eragon she continued. _We are outnumbered until we rally the humans together to rebel against Galbatorix, Shrrg are well known for dismembering even the most battle hardy of dwarves, they could help us._

_I guess your right,_ Eragon agreed. He turned his attention back the larger than normal wolves, "How about this…"

* * *

><p>Eragon sat crossed legged on a broken pillar in the former tower of Edoc'sil. In his hands was a normal wooden bowl filled with water. Eragon stared at his reflection thoughtfully, tracing the bristly hairs of his goatee with an idle finger; he cocked his head slightly and looked at his ears. While he had transformed his body back to what it had appeared when he had been human, marks of the Blood Oath Ceremony still lingered in his body, and would forever. Eragon had always been of a leaner build, he doubted he would ever be as naturally built as Ronan or Roran, who were more of heavy hitters than he was, for he would rather be fast than strong. But the mark of the dragons had taken his lean body and made it different, better, stronger, he was faster than any human alive. Only an elf could match him in speed, but he still looked human.<p>

He trailed his finger over the tips of his ears, noting the way his ear pointed ever so slightly. Before they had been as pointy as an elf's, but such ears would be noticeable in the Empire. He remembered warmly sitting in Brom's cottage, sipping a tea too hot and strong for his taste, and asking about the Riders of Old. How he said that even human Rider's would have their ears slowly turn pointed, he remembered fighting the urge to feel his then flat and round ears. Eragon sighed; so much has changed.

Eragon glanced around, making sure no one was near him. He debated whether or not he should do this, his right hand clenching his silver hammer amulet that prevented scryers from knowing his location.

"Draumr kópa," Eragon whispered so softly that it was barely audible.

The smooth water immediately started to ripple, Eragon's reflection blurring as magic coursed through the pure conduit. Eragon waited patiently, his breath held nervously, finally the water stilled an image appeared so clear Eragon felt he was there.

Murtagh was sitting on a large scaly leg, the scales flashing a dark crimson. Soft sunlight struck the Rider and dragon, Za'roc and Thorn's scales gleamed like finely cut rubies.

Eragon didn't know where they were, the background was stark white, indicating that the rebel Rider and brother to the Rider in the bowl of water had never been there before nor seen it. They were obviously on the ground, seeing that Thorn's massive body was lounging in the sunlight.

Eragon studied Murtagh's face, noting that despite his face being more sharp and angular than Eragon's, there was some resemblance between them. Their chin had the same slight tilt. It made Eragon wonder though. Did they share that from their mother or father?

Morzan.

Eragon frowned at that; the name of his father left a rather bitter and sour taste in his mouth. It tasted like something rotten, some foul. He remembered accidently having hunted and eaten a rabbit that had some sort of sickness to it, he could taste it in the flesh but he had been too hungry to really care. The thoughts of the father turned the son's attention to his mother.

Selena.

What had she been like? Was she kind? Did she even out her husband's fits of rage with love and care. Did she ever comfort her son Murtagh when he came to her, did she help clean the bloody wound that would scar his back? The wound caused by Murtagh's father, _their father_, Eragon reminded himself with a wince. Had she comforted like Aunt Marian had done to a young Eragon when he rushed to her and Garrow's bed, scared of the dark, monstrous shadows that littered his small yet cozy room? Or for Murtagh, had been those dark shadows been the silhouette of Morzan of the Forsworn?

Eragon had never known his mother; she had left him when he was still a babe. Or at least that was what Garrow and Marian told him on that fateful day when he realized that those he had thought his parents weren't. That Roran wasn't his brother, that Garrow wasn't his father, that Marian wasn't his mother. He hadn't spoken for several days, shock keeping him so mute that even Roran grew worried in a way only a eight year old could. To him, just only seven, it was the greatest shock of his life. He was scared and angry, had he been abandoned? It certainly seemed that way when his mother left just a few days after his birth, begging her brother to take care of him. Garrow never saw his sister again.

_She's dead,_ that nagging voice whispered slyly. _You knew that, you always knew. Murtagh just confirmed it. She didn't love you; she abandoned you. She didn't abandon Murtagh, your older brother._

Eragon gritted his teeth, he looked away from his brother's form and instead looked at the scenery laid down before him. He didn't like the thoughts that nagged at him, the sly whispering in the dredges of his mind, voices that grew darker and darker with each passing day. They were the voices that ensemble his insecurities, and being the son of a monster was without a doubt one of them.

Eragon Morzanson. Son of the Betrayer. Offspring of Darkness. Inheritor of his Blood. Progeny of The Forsworn. Heir of-

_Eragon,_ Saphira's voice rumbled throughout his head. Snapping her Rider out of his trance, concern and worry clung to her consciousness like tree sap. _Enough… It will do no good to think these thoughts._ The dragoness stated with concern.

_I can't help it, Saphira._ Eragon ran his lean fingers through his long locks, looking ready to pull the dark hair out by its roots. _No matter how much time has passed, Murtagh's – my brother's- words shall always haunt me._ Doubt and fear slowly trickled its way in with sickening haste, before latching their sharp claws in his scarred heart.

_I'm the youngest son of Morzan of the Forsworn. The one who made Galbatorix's rise possible. He's a villain, an oathbreaker, eggbreaker, and murderer._ The young Rider would have continued had not Saphira interrupted with the volume of an avalanche.

_Morzan is _not_ your father, Eragon._ Saphira hissed vehemently, _while Murtagh's words are true, that you are brother's, that doesn't mean Morzan is your father. He did not raise you, guide you, lead you. He never played a role in your life; he died when you were no doubt a toddler still unaware of the dangers of this world._ Something seemed to catch half of Eragon's heart and soul, Eragon could feel the faint yet prominent and painful twinges of helplessness and self-loathing that he had never expected to feel from his greatest companion, but it soon disappeared. _What I'm saying, don't let blood get in the way of who you are. You are Eragon, I choose you for your heart and soul, I never regretted my choice and nothing will make me regret it, not even your parentage._ Saphira said with so much love and warmth in her tone it made Eragon's throat tighten and his eyes began to burn.

Eragon had often wondered how he had been so lucky to have a friend like Saphira, his other half.

_I choose you for your heart, _Saphira had once said to him so long ago, when they had stayed in the Fathern Dûr while the Urgals swarmed through the tunnels.

He wondered what his greatest companion thought of his heart now, his scarred barely beating heart. He wondered if Morzan's dragon had chosen his father for his heart, did he even have one?

_Eragon…_ Saphira started with a snarl, a quick glance at her thoughts showed that she was seriously contemplating using magic to glue him to a wall and lecture him about his stupid self-conscious thoughts of himself until the end of time, or when he got his head out of the dark cloud that was his parentage.

Eragon leaned his entire body against Saphira's head, his arms wrapping around her monstrous snout. Sharp blue meeting sapphire blue, though one eye was definitely much larger than the other two. _I love you, Saphira…_

Saphira merely hummed in approval, wisps of smoke trailing out of her nostrils as the air surrounding the two joined souls rumbling from her happiness.

Eragon glanced down at the bowl that sat on the ground, Murtagh and Thorn's forms still visible. With a sigh he dropped back down to the ground and crouched by the bowl, his eyes never leaving his brother's form. _How are we going to save them, Saphira?_ He asked helplessly, the very sight of them reminded him bitterly that they were the personal slaves of Galbatorix, the Mad King. They were forced to fight against those Murtagh had formerly called comrades, he had to slay a king he had once protected. He had to fight his own flesh and blood, his little brother.

_I do not know, little one._ Saphira said truthfully, her brilliant eyes focused on her nest mate, her slave of an egg brother. She nuzzled her Rider as she spoke again, _but I know we will figure something out. Remember what Oromis-elda said about True Names?_

_Aye,_ Eragon thought as he thought back to his conversation with his crippled mentor about the subject of True Names, Oromis-elda had been adamant that his pupil knew all there was about the subject, for one day Galbatorix could learn it and he would need everything he had to break free of the Black Rider's chains. It had been a rather depressing talk, now that Eragon thought of it.

_Oromis-elda said that True Names can change, if the person changes as well. Nothing is concrete in this life, for change is to be expected and welcomed, whether good or bad,_ Eragon said, remembering his mentor's words as clearly as though he had just said them moments before.

_Maybe it won't be us who shall free your nest brother,_ Saphira stated as she gazed upwards to the very tip of the hollowed shell that was currently Utgard; her eyesight gazed upon the hidden sky. _Perhaps Murtagh shall be the one to free himself and my egg brother. Should he change from the man he is now._

_The last time I saw my brother, he was a dark brooding man with the entire world against him. Murtagh has always been that._

Saphira snorted at that, knowing that Eragon's brother had always been a bit dark and grim, but she could see the light in his black heart, it was faint but the fact that Murtagh fought against the orders of his master, fought against his very being, to spare his baby brother of the pain of servitude to a certified madman showed that the Crimson Rider had a heart behind all the pain inflicted upon him.

_That may be true, your brother has always been a bit… grim, but he has his heart in the right place. He cares for you Eragon, and you care him. You two are brothers, hatch mates; your bond is no small matter. Not to mention there is another who may be able to help him._ The image of Nasuada flashed through Eragon's minds, courtesy of Saphira.

_Nasuada?_ Eragon questioned with surprise, before remembering when he and Murtagh had lived under the Beor Mountains in the dwarven city of Farthen Dûr, he had thought that Murtagh had become quite smitten with the brave woman, and Nasuada had shown that she was smitten with his brother as well.

_Nasuada is the leader of the Varden whilst Murtagh is the servant of the Mad King, they are on opposite sides of the chess board, only divine intervention and several miracles could give them a chance to be near one another without them trying to strangle the other, much less make them fall in love, _Eragon rebutted, though his mind wondered of the what if's.

_Admit it, it'd be an interesting love story._ Saphira declared.

Eragon rolled his eyes at that, somehow Murtagh and romance didn't mix very well. _And how would Murtagh change if he loved Nasuada?_

Saphira spoke seriously, never hesitating as she merely said; _you changed for Arya._

That made Eragon pause, before slowly nodding in agreement. _I guess you're right, I did change for her. Love does interesting things, doesn't it?_

_Have faith in your brother, Murtagh never was one to lay down and take a beating. I have faith that if we can't free my egg brother and your brother, Murtagh will probably have done it already,_ Saphira declared confidently, no second thoughts or hesitation showing up anywhere in her mind.

Eragon glanced down at the bowl of water, the mirage rippling as he touched the rim of the bowl, sending the image in a flurry of motion. He swiped his hand across the water, effectively cutting the magical connection.

With a weary sigh, Eragon relaxed against Saphira's scaly forearm. Glancing up at the sky hidden under several layers and tones of rock, he finally said to his other half. _We have a lot of work to do._

* * *

><p><strong>For those wondering about Saphira's declaration of Morzan not being Eragon's father, he's still clueless about his true parentage, she didn't specifically mean that Eragon wasn't the biological son of Morzan, she meant it emotionally. Because of her oaths she can't reveal the truth to her Rider, hence the feeling of hopelessness and self-loathing Eragon noticed, but she can still try and help him without dropping clues. Sorry if the conversation with the Shrrg was a bit iffy, I think I may revise that but that is one of the reasons it took so long to update, I just wasn't pleased with it. How'd you guys like the little scene with Murtagh? Admit it, he is a bit of a dark avenger with the entire world against them.<strong>

**An interesting side note, CP himself stated that Saphira would have most likely hatched for Murtagh had the whole fiasco of the egg theft not gone down and Eragon never finding her egg. **_**Mind blown! **_**Maybe I'll write an a fanfic for that when I'm done with this one, though I already have plans for another Inheritance Cycle fic that I've started writing for… eh, we'll see where the roads take me.**

**I'm very sorry for the lack of updates, but my life has taken a bit of a hectic turn these past couple of months that make it difficult for me to write. I won't bother you guys with my problems, but just do me a favor and always be there for your family, you never know when something bad can happen and you find yourself wishing there was more you could have done to be with them before they are lost forever. **


	24. The Great Game

Dras Leona hadn't changed much since Eragon had last visited with Brom, despite the fact it happening only two years or so, it felt like a lifetime. As he gazed upon the disarray of rundown buildings that made up the city, Eragon kept expecting to see Brom leaning against his rune etched staff, explaining the ways of the priests of Dres Leona and how they worshiped Helgrind and of the creatures who had dwelled within the darkened stone.

Speaking of Helgrind…. Eragon could easily see the dark blot on the horizon, thanks to his enhanced eyesight he could faintly make out the cragged peaks of the deformed rock. How odd that it had only been a couple of weeks since he has last been there, where he had slain the Ra'zac, where he had finally found a small amount of peace within him.

Eragon turned his attention back to Dras Leona, the city was a tangled mess of run down homes, most mere structures of mud-caked walls and thatched roofs, on the shore of Leona Lake, only when the path trailed farther in did he actually see houses made of brick and stone that wouldn't collapse upon his head. He easily saw the towering Cathedral, its dark stone reminding him of the evil lair of the Ra'zac who the priests had no doubt modeled it after.

_I wonder. What will the priests do now that the Ra'zac are no more?_ Eragon mused as he walked down the cobblestone path towards the great gates of Dres Leona, he had changed his appearance once against to lighten his hair and to change his brown eyes into a vivid green, nobody would know that Eragon Son of None was in their midst. And Eragon would prefer it that way.

_I highly doubt the priests would welcome you with open arms if they knew you were in this rabble of a city…. Stay cautious little one, we have enemies everywhere._ Saphira warned her Rider who continued on towards the gate.

_I've changed from the boy seeing this city for the first time, trust me I don't want another repeat of last time. I've been chased out of enough places with arrows aimed at my back and spearmen and swordsmen on my heels to last me a lifetime, and we live forever mind you._

_Do not underestimate our enemies Eragon, _Saphira warned him cautiously. _The blood drinkers may not be the worst enemies we have but we barely know anything about them and as you know…_

_That makes them even more dangerous,_ Eragon finished his other half of his heart and soul grimly, _I know Saphira. I'm ready for anything… and having several Eldunarí to back you up never hurts your chances, eh Uznov, Draken?_

_Right!_ Draken's voice rumbled inside Eragon's head, his brother and himself along with five other Eldunarí being in Eragon's small dimension.

_Brother, don't encourage the boy to be careless. Honestly, is that the way we wish for our new leader of the Riders to act? With a hot head and even more careless actions? As if we have enough to worry about with this boy getting in way over his head,_ Uznov's deep voice rumbled like an avalanche. The grey Eldunarí hadn't changed his opinion on how much trouble Eragon could get in with what he deemed to be awful patience, sometimes Eragon wished he could turn back the clocks so that the powerful dead dragon could see what he was like _before_ he left the Varden.

Eragon stopped communicating with the dragons, alive and dead alike. He had reached the gates and would have to shut off his mind so no magicians could be privy to his thoughts. Like before there was a massive rush of people trying to get through the gates, judging by their ragged clothing and some holding onto a few possession Eragon knew they were refugees from the south, trying to get away from the war.

Like the last time he had gone through the gates with Brom, he managed to slip by thanks to the endless crowd of refugees, nobody would pay attention to a normal looking man with ragged robes, he was just another face in the crowd. No one would guess he was Eragon Shadeslayer.

Once he entered the city lines he knew what to expect from last time, but he couldn't help but feel his heart pang and his blood to boil in barely concealed rage. Like last time beggars with deformities lined the dirt streets. Some missing hands or fingers, Eragon guessed they were the crime for being caught stealing as that was common for the law to do that, and seeing their ragged state he couldn't blame them. Children as thin as the reeds lining Leona Lake chased one another, but instead of playing like normal children Eragon could see two fighting over a small scrap of bread, barely enough to satisfy even a starving toddler.

The cries of the poor and deformed rang in his head, their cries of help fell on the deaf ears of the travellers. Either because they couldn't help or they just wouldn't.

Maybe it was because there were so many new refugees, but Eragon knew that their ranks had grown tenfold at least. He wished he were deaf, their cries for aid couldn't be answered by him, not now and not here. He had never felt more useless, but he knew if a random stranger started to hand out coin, people would find it suspicious and watch him, the last thing he needed.

He wished he could help him, but he had come here for one thing, to free the slaves. Eragon would work behind the scenes, in the shadows, to help the poor. But when it was broad daylight with people watching his every move… He couldn't do that yet.

With a heavy mind and an even heavier heart, Eragon followed the familiar path. Weaving through the crowded masses, the robed Rider soon found himself in the nicer parts of the city, where the civilians lived in luxury compared to their poorer brothers and sisters. He could still hear the cries of help from the distance.

Soon enough Eragon found himself looking at a familiar inn, the Golden Globe still looked slightly worn down but he knew that it was near the center of the city and it would be easier to navigate.

The woman who ran the inn had not changed, aside from more wrinkles adorning her brow and cheeks, she still seemed the same. Her scowl as well.

Eragon paid the woman for several days of rent, before retiring to his room. Taking one look at the straw mattress and remembering of past experience he slowly cast his mind out slightly, sure enough small sparks of light were all over the mattress. "Joy," he muttered as he sent a small mental prod at the bright lights. Suddenly small yet prominent black dots suddenly appeared out of the straw mattress and the matted rug, the insects walked single file out of the bed and crawled up the cracked wall and out the window.

_Looks like I was right in letting Brom sleep in the bed,_ Eragon noted wryly, sighing as he laid down in the grimy sheets. The smell of hay becoming apparent to his sharpened senses. The smell calmed him slightly, nostalgia overtook the rebel Rider as he thought of his old bed back on Garrow's farm, now nothing but ashes and shattered memories.

Eragon muttered some wards and placed them around the room, if any intruder with ill means tried to sneak up on him, they would find out rather quickly on why he had survived so long in the Empire.

_You should rest, Eragon. Tomorrow is often a beginning of new surprises._ Saphira told her Rider, he saw through their connection that she was currently resting deep in the forest, away from prying eyes but still close enough to burn the city to the ground if her little one was harmed in anyway.

_I know,_ Eragon said softly as he closed his eyes. _Tomorrow will be a beginning of surprises, both expected and not, whether good or bad. But where is the joy in a surprise if you already know what's going to happen, eh?_

* * *

><p>Eragon watched the crowds mill about, their different conversation buzzing in the back of his head, but Eragon paid them no need. He did listen for the worker who was bartering with the trader for cheaper bread, or the housewife who tried to buy fabric with less coin to its value. He instead watched and waited for the name Jorgr had told him about, one of the many eyes and ears of the Black Lotus.<p>

It didn't take too long to find him. Even amongst the grey cobblestone pathways and the dark buildings amongst a sea of gloomy colors that made Eragon think they were more of use at a funeral than a normal day, he could make out the broad shouldered man walking towards him, his face hidden by a black cloak, had Eragon not had the eyesight of a elf he would have missed the small imprints upon the cloth, ornate designs of lotuses crossing over one another in an intricate weave, his sharp brown eyes noticed the faint imprints of runes as well, some Eragon didn't recognize reminding the rebel Rider that he still had a lot to learn.

The man had finally gotten near him, his facial features were hidden by the shadows of the cowl, but Eragon saw the stormy grey eyes staring into him with a cool calculative gaze. When he spoke it reminded him of dwarf, deep and resonate, like an avalanche but it had the same smoothness as a well polished stone.

"So you're the one Jorgr is so interested in, eh?" The man asked with narrowed eyes, Eragon recognized the roughness in his tone as well, the man had the same grittiness as someone who could have only been born in the north, like Eragon and Ronan he had probably been born and raised in a small village, perhaps near the Spine. The fact that Eragon could discern this just from a simple accent wasn't lost on the Rider, it made him more confident that this conversation wouldn't turn ugly or violent.

Eragon seemed to have that effect on people.

The leader of the rebel Riders did not speak but merely nodded his head, his eyes trying to see through the darkness of the man's hood, but there was no surprise when he failed to do so. Obviously the man was a magician and could mask his face with the shadows, a rather common yet helpful spell.

The man's eyes narrowed at the silence ever so slightly, he shifted his feet against the worn cobblestone before the man spoke again. "I'm Imun, Jorgr's right hand man I guess you could say." The now known Imun did not offer his hand in greeting, not that Eragon expected it.

"Garrow," Eragon offered with a small internal smile. Eragon tilted his head so he could see over the man's broad shoulder, looking for anyone following the man or looking in their direction. He saw naught but shoppers and vendors in a sea of chaos as everyone tried to get around the crowded plaza.

"Mmmm," judging by the tone Imun didn't believe him, then again why would he give his name. Eragon wasn't exactly a common name in the Empire, or even in Alagaesia, he didn't need any more attention.

"Come with me," Imun muttered under his breath, he started to walk, or more like lumbered, through the crowds of peasants and nobles alike. The crowd parted for him, though perhaps unintentionally, not for the man's impressive stature or dark attire but like sheep parting for their shepherd, instinctive.

Eragon raised a brow at that, following the larger and older man with even more interest. He knew that Imun was silently prodding the minds of the onlookers to step aside, faint enough that even a trained human magician would realize something in their mind. _Interesting, though for such a crowd of unknown people, such actions could be dangerous._ Saphira stated within their link, faint images following showed her high above the city, watching her Rider like a guardian angel that just happened to breathe fire.

Imun lead him throughout the labyrinth of streets, slowly getting towards the walls that defended the mesh of cluttered buildings and thus the poorer sections that would be the first to fall in a siege. The young Rider was lead to what appeared to be a tavern, its walls made of rough hewn stone and a wicker roof. The door a green so dark he wasn't sure if it was actually covered in moss instead of dye.

They entered the tavern. It was rather rundown compared to the Golden Globe, but not as rundown as some of the other taverns he had been too, it was surprisingly rather clean despite the dirty people that came and went. It reminded him of Morn's tavern, rundown but homely. The place was almost deserted, as many of the common people were probably working for their meal and mead somewhere in the city.

Some men garbed in boiled leather and old swords, that had probably been their grandfather's father's sword, sheathed at their hips drank at the oaken bar, their cheeks already reddened by the tankards of mead in their hands. To Eragon's relief he didn't see any sigils on their pauldrons, meaning they weren't part of the Imperial Army or the City Guard.

_Free lances perhaps?_ He thought to himself. They certainly looked the part, meaning they had few equipment aside from their swords and seemed more eager to drink than spill blood.

_That or bandits,_ Saphira murmured to her Rider before her tone turned distasteful, as though she had eaten something foul and rotten. _Or slavers…_

Eragon's mood turned as foul as Saphira's tone, he glanced back at the men, wondering if they had sold their fellow human beings, children even, to cruel slave owners just so they could have another tankard of mead. He hoped that wasn't the case.

"Please, sit." Immun gestured towards an empty table, the interesting thing was that it wasn't bare of anything but an intricate board shaped in a circle with what looked like colored tiles, tan, white, and brown, placed around the board. "Would you like to play?" he gestured at the board, pulling out small chips with different symbols from his robes.

Eragon gave the shrouded man a smile, "I'm afraid I do not know the game." He admitted as he seated himself, the mail he was wearing jostling slightly underneath his robes with a light tinkling noise that was nearly inaudible, but he could feel Immun's gaze on him, knowing that he wore armor underneath.

"The concept is simple, consider it a game of strategy." Jorgr's right hand man stated as he started to place the chips on certain tiles. "Though some, like those fellows over there," he nodded his head at the drinking free lances, "most likely use this game as a means of gambling rather than strategy."

Eragon listened on, intrigued by the game. "Is it like checkers?" he asked, remembering playing the game when he had been a lad back in Carvahall.

The man shrugged his shoulder, "A bit. It's just as old as that game, perhaps even older. But few know the rules and strategies." He moved a tile forward as he spoke.

Eragon, not really knowing any of the tiles and their meanings, chose a tile at random and moved it forward. He couldn't tell if he made a right move seeing as he could not see Immun's face, though he knew that he was most likely from the southern parts of the Empire, judging by the tanned skin of his hand.

The game continued, Immun was easily beating him but Eragon slowly started to understand some of the pieces and managed to put up a bit of a fight.

As Immun moved a tile that looked like a white rose, he spoke. "You wish to know things." He stated simply as he moved the tile in a zig zag motion and swiftly plucked on of Eragon's tiles, the symbol that of some type of stone that he didn't know the name of, and took it off the board. With a grunt Eragon realized that he hadn't managed to take off a single of Immun's pieces.

"Indeed. I'm sure your boss has mentioned what exactly I want." Eragon moved a tile in a diagonal line two tiles across, he saw the man in front of him nod, either to answer the question or glad that he seemed to know what to do with the game, Eragon would probably never know.

"Slave charts," the man grunted as he looked at the board with its quickly receding number of tiles, all of them Eragon's, "What are you trying to do, boy? Start a war?' he chuckled to himself at the last part, not knowing that was exactly what Eragon planned to do, or rather had already done.

"Consider myself a concerned citizen looking out for his fellow man."

"Don't give me that, lad. I may be a bit on the older side, but I'm not daft." Immun stated with a huff that Brom would have been proud of. "You're going to free them, but why? You don't seem to be the type of man to not have a motive. Oh yes, I can see it in your eyes. You're a man whose seen war, been in it, fought in it, killed in it, but you left it. But did the war leave you, hmm?"

Eragon didn't reply, he glared down at the table with a stubborn scowl. He didn't like the idea of some stranger knowing what he was like, Immun's sharp gaze wasn't lost on him.

"You've been in the war, but you weren't on King Galbatorix's side, were you? The Varden no doubt; judging by the way you glance around at the exits every now and then as though looking for Imperial soldiers to burst through the doors. They wont, and neither will the City Guard, Hudon and his men make sure of that." He nodded his head to the group of men drinking. "They're guards of our little club," he said.

"Anyway, back to those charters you so desperately want." He pulled out several scrolls from the folds of his robes and laid them beside him, making sure to not jostle the table and its pieces. He tapped his fingers on the parchment, "Everything concerning slavery within this putrid waste of a city. From shipments of captured humans, to the actual auctions themselves, and even some notable nobles with their large amassment of servants. I'm afraid I don't have any concerning how to free hundreds of slaves and get them out of the city though." He said the last part nonchalantly.

_This guy… he's as sharp as Arya and Oromis-elda put together._ Eragon thought in disbelief.

_The human is rather… sharp in certain aspects._ Saphira noted warily, concerned for the safety of her Rider.

Immun's fingers tapped themselves on the aged table, his hidden eyes focused upon the board with the different tiles. "Shall we continue to play?" he offered as he moved a tile, some dark flower imprinted within the aged tile, and plucked one of Eragon's tiles in one swift motion.

It didn't take much longer until Eragon's pieces were taken by Immun, the young Rider fought the urge to grit his teeth when he saw that every strategy he used was countered by Immun, it was as though he knew exactly what he was thinking, and he knew that Immun wasn't probing his consciousness for he and Saphira would have felt it.

"You've lost," Immun noted as he fiddled with a tile in his hand, a neat and orderly of Eragon's defeated tiles piled by his side. "While this is a game, think of what would happen if instead of tiles on a board, lives were placed upon a battlefield, what would happen, Garrow?"

Eragon didn't respond, he just stared at the masked man with shock. This man had to rival Brom in regards to smarts; there was no other explanation. Granted he didn't know the game and its rules until several hours ago, but he had always been a quick learner. But this man had beaten him in a game of wits with ease. He glanced down at his board, bare of pieces, and for a few seconds his vision flashed.

Instead of the neatly placed tiles, he saw grass stained with blood. He saw bodies; some charred or crushed beyond recognition, others missing limbs, others badly injured but still breathing, each breath the sound of a death rattle. He remembered the Battle of the Burning Plains, where men and dwarves died, cut down by the Imperial Army, their bright lives snuffed out. By accident as he searched for enemy magicians he caught many of their last thoughts, and those thoughts haunted him more than the men he himself had said.

_We fought for you, Shadeslayer._

They had hadn't just fought for him, they had died for him. And for what? Why?

"_Eragon is the key, the symbol, the very virtue of freedom itself!"_ Roran's words spoken in Helgrind rushed back to the Blue Rider.

If he was to be the key, that symbol, the essence of freedom, he would have to learn. Now he merely played with bits of clay and stone, but he knew deep in his heart that sooner or later those tiles would shift from carved stones into real men, men who believed in him.

He couldn't save them all, but he could try his damned hardest to make their sacrifices worth it.

Saphira didn't speak as she listened to the thoughts of her Rider, though the pride and warmth threatened to overflow their bond with the strength of a typhoon, her little one wasn't little anymore, the hatchling had grown into a fierce and cunning dragon. The fact that Eragon was so focused to liberating Alagaësia from King Galbatorix wasn't the reason, no, not in the slightest.

It was his dedication to the people of Alagaësia. His dedication wasn't just to the humans, but to all intelligent life, from the dwarves of the Beor Mountains to the elves of Du Weldenvarden, to the humans of the Empire, Eragon fought _for_ them, for their freedom.

That was the difference between her little one and another leader, such as King Orrin of Surda. Orrin may fight for freedom, but any could tell that he had lost sight of his original goal, and now all he saw was the darkness and the unknowing shifting shapes that dwelled within, but Eragon still saw the world in its shades of grey, the light and the dark, he wasn't naïve nor was he ignorant, he was Eragon.

He was a Rider.

"You're in deep thought, young one," Immun noted, his voice softening ever so slightly, the iron tone softening to granite. "But that is good, I see it in your eyes."

Though he could not see Immun's face, Eragon paused. Eragon wondered if he knew that he wasn't Garrow, a simple man, but Eragon, a Rider. Somehow, instead of paranoia and fear, he didn't feel any worry about the safety of his identity.

Eragon looked down and realized that the man had placed the tiles back on the board, Eragon looked back up. "Would you like to play this game again?" he asked with a small smile, he may not know the rules and strategies, but he would learn.

One day the tiles will be lives, and the rules will dictate their fate, and strategies will help Eragon protect them.

Though he couldn't see it, Immun smiled. _This Rider is interesting no doubt,_ the older man thought as he saw the determination burning in his green (most likely illusioned) eyes, it wasn't too hard to figure out who this 'Garrow' really was, but he held his tongue. Immun had a sixth sense on judgment of character, and the man seated before him was unlike any he had ever seen before.

If the lad needed help, Immun would help him. The boy would need all the help he would need, for he will surely not receive much but give much.

He pushed a tile forward, a lotus the color of pitch, a tile that was supposedly expendable but could win the whole board. "This is more than just a game."

And Eragon truly believed him.

* * *

><p><strong>Alright I am not really comfortable with this chapter, I'll admit it. So many of you guys were questioning about the next update and I may have rushed it, but I hope it's still good enough. The main difficulty was trying to flesh out Immun's character (I don't really know if he'll appear in any other chapters, but I was basically basing him off of Iroh to those who know what that game they were playing was and why I used it, as I found it to be a good plot device to flesh out Eragon's character even more).<strong>

**I also wanted to try and continue to prove that Eragon isn't some almighty Rider god who could defeat anyone like a gnat, I wanted to show that though he is stronger than he was in Canon I am **_**not**_** making him into a Mary-Sue because I have few rules with my stories.**

**1. Make it believable**

**2. Keep them in character but still have some originality of my own.**

**3. Don't make them into super powerful god-like Mary-Sues who can destroy mountains by blinking or something like that.**

**I'm sorry if the chapter was not to your liking but this is really just a base for the upcoming chapters, and yes Eragon will finally start getting followers so he will actually have a chance of winning this war. I'm really sorry for the lack of updates, but I've been focusing a lot on schoolwork and sports, but I promise I'll update faster because you guys love this story so much. Like seriously you guys are my inspiration to continue reading. I'm even rereading **_**Brisingr **_**and **_**Inheritance**_** to help improve this story.**

**If you guys have any ideas for this story, I'm all ears because some of your ideas may stick to me and I could try to blend them into the story because I'll admit that I get heavy writer's block for this story sometimes so suggestions are a breath of fresh air. I do have the plot structure written down I've already done the beginning and I've already thought of the end, its really just some of the middle that I have trouble with.**


	25. Blood Wolf

"We still have no word, my Queen." An elf stated as he knelt before his ruler, who appeared in a mirror on a wooden post. The elf was male, but didn't appear to be humanoid in feature. Blue fur sprouted from his body in a thick pelt that resembled a forest cat, his teeth sharpened into the fangs of a wolf, his eyes resembling that of an eagle. "Arya Dröttiningu hasn't been sighted since she and the Rider's cousin went to slay the Ra'zac… no one has seen her since."

He was Blödhgarm, the most powerful spell caster Queen Islanzadí had sent to aid Eragon and Saphira Bjartskular in their quest to kill the Mad King. But when he and eleven other elves had arrived to the Varden, Eragon Shadeslayer and his dragoness were nowhere to be found and no soul could tell them why he had disappeared without a trace.

Queen Islanzadí sighed at her subordinate's statement, what had her child done this time? Arya had been missing for several months, and even with all of her spell casters and scryers, she was no closer to the truth than when they had started.

They had found her by scrying, but the surrounding area was stark white, none of the elves had been there before and though elves had been known for their adventurous personalities, most were young in elven terms and most of her people had never been to one piece of Alagaesia.

The Empire.

What had made her daughter remain in the Empire? Ronan Stronghammer had claimed they had been separated during their fight with the Ra'zac and when the deed was done and the creatures of death and fear slain, Arya had been missing.

She didn't believe the warrior in the slightest, even with Arya there was no way the _human_ warrior had slain the most fearsome monsters that lurked on the fringes of myth and legend. Something had happened in Helgrind, the elven queen was certain about it. But what had happened that would make Stronghammer lie? She might have never met him before but Blödhgarm and the other elven mages had stated he was a trustworthy man with good morals for a human being. What would make him lie, or at least tell half a lie of what happened?

"What has Nasuada said of this?" Islanzadí asked sharply. "That Stronghammer might be hiding something?"

The fur on the back of Blödhgarm's neck bristled, "She does not believe our accusations. She believes the Rider's cousin over us… typical humans." Though their help had been well received, Blödhgarm wasn't a fool; even he knew that some of the Varden feared the elves and Blödhgarm's 'monstrous' appearance, calling it 'not normal' and 'inhuman'. They weren't even human, the fools. They were _elves_ and to be compared to one was insulting.

The Queen of the Elven Kingdom sighed again, her beautiful immortal face resigned and weary. Even with her beauty and elfish looks, Blödhgarm could see the tiredness in his Queen's jade eyes, and even saw the faint dark rings that threated to show around her eyes. He had never seen his ruler so tired before, but war did that to all races, no matter whom.

"Tell Nasuada and King Orrin of our successful siege and capture of the city Cuenon. The city was taken during the night, and only a handful of our warriors perished by the swords and spells of Galbatorix's Imperial Army, but in the end they surrendered to us." Islanzadí stated as she righted herself upright in her throne spun of various vines and flowers, "At the rate we have been going, at least for the elves, we might be able to see the fields of Illeria in a year's time."

Blödhgarm nodded his head in agreement to his leader's command. He still knelt as he glanced up into his own mirror, his sharp amber eyes gleaming in the darkness. "What of the Red Rider? The son of Morzan of the Forsworn?"

"He has not appeared to our army, perhaps Galbatorix will send his pets upon us when we advance to the south, or mayhap when the Varden finally moves from the southern city of Aroughs to Feinster… has Nasuada given the command?" The Queen asked curiously, as the Varden army had been sheltering in the city of Aroughs, safe from the Empire's strength, for near half a year whilst the elven army fought and bled in the north for them. It didn't please her in the slightest when Blödhgarm shook his head yet again.

"Lady Nasuada has yet to give us the order and all King Orrin of Surda has been doing is raiding the previous ruler's stores of rum, wine and mead whilst his soldiers raid the alehouses," Blödhgarm's mouth twisted into a feral sneer, his fangs gleaming. "The only interesting thing to note about the human king is that he is trying to convince Nasuada to allow Aroughs and it's rich, fertile lands to be added to Surda's border."

_The nerve and arrogance of that fool,_ Islanzadí thought to herself in silent fury. "The Varden has barely advanced in their rebellion, they are on the fringes of the Empire which Galbatorix has no concern for, and yet they sit there content while the only human king that isn't insane is drinking his merry way into an early grave and trying to gain more lands for himself while _we_ advance further than they have gone and everyday lose brothers and sisters while they drink and squabble like sparrows over whose land should go to whom?" By the end of that sentence, Islanzadí's tone was cold in fury, her jade eyes as cold as stone.

_Like mother like daughter_, Blödhgarm noted dryly, having recognized just how much of Islanzadí was in her missing daughter Arya.

"If I may speak, my Queen…"

"You may," Islanzadí said.

"I believe that our stay in the Varden camp has run its course," Blödhgarm said with no hesitation. "The reason for our arrival was to protect Eragon Shadeslayer and Saphira Bjartskular, but seeing as we have yet to see our charges…"

"You wish to return?" Islanzadí finished for the oddly featured elf.

The blue furred elf nodded his head; "It would be in the best interests of our race if we were to return to our brothers and sisters in the north. Here in Aroughs, we are of no use to the tides of war, we are told to sit and stay by the human leaders and not to protect and serve the interests of the free races. The Varden may be content to wait another season in the southern city before facing the might of the Empire and Galbatorix, but my fellow spell casters and myself would rather die in battle with spells on our lips to protect Alagaësia from the clutches of Galbatorix than to twiddle our thumbs in the Varden camp."

Islanzadí didn't say anything, she merely thought it over. If her spell casters were to leave the Varden, they would have to travel through the entire Empire to rejoin their kin and kind, not to mention that the Varden's Council of Elders –she scoffed at the term, they were mere children in her ancient eyes- would take it as a slight. The Varden's Du Vrangr Gata held the only spell casters who could actually help in the heat of battle, though the fact their name was wrong in the Ancient Language and that should have called themselves Du Gata Vrangr just showed their ignorance of magic and it's Language.

She knew how much the Varden would depend on her spell casters when they were in battle, but she needed them too. They were the greatest of the elves, the strongest and the wisest; she had sent them to protect Eragon and her daughter, Arya. But neither of them could be found, which was a coincidence she could not ignore, and that meant their original mission could not be carried out.

"Very well," Islanzadí said to the male elf in the mirror. "You and the others may return to us, but your group shall not be dissolved."

"What do you mean, Queen Islanzadí?"

"You will have to travel throughout the Empire to return to the elven army, and as we know that Arya is somewhere within those harsh and brutal lands, I am tasking you to find my daughter and bring her home to me," Islanzadí looked forlorn, for despite being strained with her only child, Arya was her daughter and she loved her and wished for her safety. "It will most likely solve our other problem."

"The Rider?" Blödhgarm asked curiously. The animalistic elf had never seen the famed Blue Rider as he had missed the Agaetí Blödhren for reasons unknown to all but himself. "You think that the Shadeslayer and Arya Dröttiningu have met within the past season?"

Islanzadí leaned into her living throne, locking eyes of jade with the eyes of an eagle. "Why else would Arya remain in the Empire, the last time she was within it's borders…" Islanzadí remembered, and she knew her daughter did too. She had been a prisoner of the Shade Durza in the prisons of Gil'ead and tortured by the twisted mind of demented spirits. Had Eragon not saved her daughter from that creature's grasp, the Queen had no doubt that she would have survived her entire family. The Empire had already taken her beloved husband and Arya's father, Evandar, during the Battle of Illeria at the hands of one of the cursed Wyrdfell; she would not allow the Empire to take their child as well.

"I understand, Queen Islanzadí. You do not have to bring yourself to say the vile things that were done to your child," the elf within the mirror stated with sorrow. "Galbatorix shall pay for all the horrors he has allowed and committed."

"I know that they are together somewhere in the Empire, Blödhgarm. Eragon had feelings towards my daughter when he was trained here by Rider Oromis, feelings that most likely have not left the boy. It's rather genius, isn't it? Who would look for Galbatorix's greatest enemy in Galbatorix's own empire? Only a brave fool or a man who had nowhere else to go and no one to turn to… Eragon was the latter, I am sure of it Blödhgarm." Islanzadí stated, her face as emotionless as stone.

Blödhgarm raised a blue brow, instantly realizing what the matriarch was implying. "You believe that something occurred during or after the Battle of the Burning Plains that made Eragon and Saphira flee from their own army?"

"The Varden wasn't _their_ army, Blödhgarm." The Queen stated as as she looked at him pointedly.

Blödhgarm snarled at the implication, "You think that Lady Nasuada or King Orrin or even those damned 'esteemed' Council of Elders had something to do with the Blue Rider's disappearance? I will admit this to you, I have heard talks amongst the soldiers, rumors so to speak. Though they would never talk about such things to my face, we elves have enhanced hearing and I was able to hear a couple of grumbling sentries discussing things that could be considered treason."

"What did you hear, Blödhgarm?"

"The men I overheard were grumbling about a certain king of Surda… They were obviously Lady Nasuada's men by the look of them. They were complaining about how Orrin was ruining their cause by not allowing them to leave Aroughs, how the king was trying to undermine Lady Nasuada's authority to gain complete control of the Varden and the Rebellion altogether. From what I've come to understand, many of the political higher ups are not well loved by the common foot soldiers, who are the brunt of the Varden's strength, and how the disappearance of their Rider was a sign from the gods that they were being punished for the higher ups incompetence…" Blödhgarm said this part dryly, being an elf he saw no reason to believe in a higher entity that had never been seen nor heard yet worshipped. "There is no love and loyalty in them for certain commanders. The only reason the Varden hasn't completely dissolved is because of Nasuada, who has managed to continue to have the loyalty of her followers and, surprisingly enough, Roran Stronghammer."

"Eragon's cousin?" Islanzadí asked surprised.

"Aye, he's a bit of a legend these days. If not for him and his soldiers, they would have lost hundreds of men in storming Aroughs, but thanks to their infiltration the Varden was able to seize the city with barely any blood spilt in doing so. Not to mention his part in helping slay the Ra'zac. He is without a doubt the greatest human warrior in the Varden, he has skill." Blödhgarm admitted, though he did not believe the part about the Ra'zac. "Not to mention he shares the blood of the Varden's hero, Eragon. That has helped his popularity rather well, there is talk of him becoming a Commander, or rather the soldiers are demanding it. Even the Urgals and Kull side with him, they respect him for beating one of them, an Urgal ram by the name of Yarbog, in a test of strength."

"They see him as Eragon's temporary replacement," Islanzadí looked thoughtful at this new information. "You say the man is loyal and has good morals? Than that makes it all the more apparent that something happened in Helgrind, something that must have involved his younger cousin. Why else would the honorable Roran Stronghammer lie to his own comrades and superiors? Only family could hold more loyalty than a ruler."

"You believe that Eragon appeared to him and Arya in that hellish mountain?"

"Eragon is a Shadeslayer, slaying the Ra'zac wouldn't be too great a feat for a Rider like him. He's different from the previous Riders of Old; he has true grit and knows pain and suffering instead of privilege and wealth. When it comes to humans and their politics, Eragon is the black sheep so to speak. He speaks for the common and poorer humans of Alagaësia and they listen to him, because he was and still _is_ one of them… that is one of his greatest strengths. Orrin was born a prince and later became a king and Nasuada's father was the leader of the Varden, they were born above the common people, but Eragon was born a poor farmer in the northern Empire who rose above those born of privilege and riches. _That _is one of the reasons why people love him so much, because he is the symbol of a better life for those born without a chance to have one."

"You seem to have thought this through rather well, my Queen."

Islanzadí looked at her subordinate with those ancient jade eyes, "I know many things, my comrade. This is just one of many… please, Blödhgarm… find my daughter… bring her home." When Blödhgarm looked at her though his scrying mirror, he did not see the cold matriarch that had isolated herself and their kind from the affairs of Alagaësia and even from her own daughter, all he saw was a mother who wished to protect their child, even if they themselves couldn't do it.

He bowed his head in acknowledgment, _"I will find Princess Arya, Queen Islanzadí."_ Blödhgarm swore solemnly in the Ancient Language, where lies were impossible and oaths unbreakable. _"We will find her and bring her back to you… and we will find Eragon Shadeslayer and Saphira Bjartskular and bring them to you as well."_

To win this bloody rebellion they needed Eragon and Saphira, but they had hidden themselves too well to be found by simple scrying –damn that stone-headed dwarf priest Gannel for giving the Rider that enchanted necklace which made scrying for him impossible- and thus needed to be found manually. It was a good thing that Wyrden was one of the best elven trackers. If they found Eragon they would most likely find Arya, and it was the same the other way around. All they had to do was find one and they would find the other as well. Though Blödhgarm did not know why Eragon had fled to the Empire, he knew that the time for hiding was over. The war had continued in the Riders' absence, and would only continue to worsen for the rebellion should Eragon not appear to help. To win the war they needed the might of the Riders and the dragons.

Islanzadí's hardened features seemed to soften ever so slightly, like that of iron transforming itself into stone. "Thank you, my old friend. Finding Arya and Eragon are the greatest of priorities. If you fail and they do not rejoin the war… it may as well be lost."

Nodding in agreement, Blödhgarm rose from his kneeling position and canceled the scrying spell that allowed him to talk to his leader from across the known world. "I will not fail, Queen Islanzadí." Blödhgarm whispered to himself in the privacy of his tent.

"Wryden!" he called out to his fellow magician that had been holding vigil outside of his tent, having already canceled out the spells that prevented eavesdroppers from listening to conversations within the tent.

The elf appeared in the entrance of his tent, his black eyes looking at his leader with interest. "What did you and the Queen discuss, Blödhgarm?" He asked with his normal curiosity.

"Tell the others to pack their belongings… we're leaving tonight." Blödhgarm commanded as he began to pack the bare essentials and needs that would be required for such a travel.

Wryden's dark brow rose daintily, "That's a rather sudden change of plans. Did she say where?"

"We're heading into the Empire to find any traces of Arya Dröttiningu as well as Eragon Shadeslayer and Saphira Bjartskular. The Queen seemed keen on the idea of them hiding in plain sight." Blödhgarm said curtly as he continued to pack.

Wryden nodded and swiftly left the tent to go tell their fellow elves about the sudden change of plans. Blödhgarm closed his eyes wearily, knowing that they would have to sneak out of Aroughs or else have to deal with the 'esteemed' Council of Elders or worse, King Orrin. As he rushed out of the tent with but a knapsack in his hands and a sword on his belt, the oddly featured elf could only think of one thing.

_The world needs Eragon Shadeslayer and Saphira Bjartskular more than ever… time has run out for them wherever they are… The war has not waited for them, but instead continued to worsen in their absence. They must do their duties as Rider and dragon. They must rejoin the rebellion or there will no longer be a war left to fight._

* * *

><p><strong>Ancient Language<strong>

Dröttiningu - Princess

Blödhgarm – Blood Wolf.

Agaetí Blödhren – Blood Oath Celebration: A celebration formed by the elven kingdom to celebrate the pact formed during the Dragon War and the creation of the Order of the Riders. It is celebrated every century in the heart of the elven capitol, Ellesméra. The ceremony happens underneath the shade of the Menoa Tree.

Wrydfell – The Forsworn.


	26. The Rise

"And here is one our latest objects, a young male captured on the eastern plains of the Hadarac Desert, look at the size of 'em ladies and gentlemen. If that isn't a strong and hardy specimen built for labor than I don't know what is, look at his arms! Sturdy as a bull, though not as smart," the man on the platform exclaimed to the crowd of wealthy civilians, whose laughter joined with the sounds of bargaining vendors, arrogant guards, and, thanks to Eragon's enhanced elven hearing, the sounds of unheard cries for help by the poor.

Eragon could barely stand being there, with the crowd that looked interested at the various males and females of different ages, some _children,_ chained and caged by the man on the platform and his fellow businessmen as though they were cattle sent to the market. Slavers and their buyers.

He remembered when he had first stood in this courtyard, long ago, when he had been given free reign to explore one of the largest of human cities by Brom. How delighted he had been by the various wares of foreign and exotic places, crystals of various colors and shapes from the island of Sharktooth, herbs of exotic tastes from southern Surda, books and tomes written by the brightest minds from Urû'baen, the Empire's capitol… and then, by accident and curiosity, he had stumbled upon this very courtyard and witnessed the selling of human beings as though they were livestock, mere objects of servitude for those of high birth or wealth.

One of the sellings still haunted him, a sobbing and pleading mother whose young daughter, barely at the age of four, was ripped from her arms as she was sold to a hawk-nosed man, and the child to a sour looking woman with cold, cruel eyes. How the guards who bore the sigil of a twisted flame outlined in gold thread, Galbatorix's symbol, dragged the mother away from her shrieking child, one even going as far as to punch her when she continued to scream, he remembered the hawk-nosed man had complained to the guards about damaging his newest buy… Eragon's blood had burned in rage, the magical energy within him swirling around him, begging to be released to break the chains of those men and women, boys and girls, to free them.

But he couldn't back then, and the past Eragon had realized it with a heavy bitterness, for though he could have broken their chains easily, his actions would have resulted in their deaths as the slavers would assume they were trying to run and kill them before they could even gain their bearings, and Eragon could have been caught, imprisoned or killed, because he couldn't think of a plan worthy of action.

But as he stood amongst the strangers of the crowd, his eyes looking at every weakness in the slavers' ranks, a plan had been formed and set. The slaves that stood before him, like those that had stood before him a year ago, were unlike the others, because Eragon could now free them, and free them he would.

He watched as the man was sold to a balding man with sharp cruel eyes, the slave had been one of the few left to be sold. The owner had several guards with him, the guards ruthlessly shoving the sold man in the direction of the owner's estate. Eragon could only watch in silent anger.

_This plan is foolish and rash, little one._ The voice of Saphira rang in his head.

_Then it is a plan worthy of Eragon Shadeslayer,_ Eragon thought wryly.

The plan was rather simple compared to his other plans. Immun had given him command of his own soldiers, lower members of the Kuro Hasu. There were twelve in total, rather small for such an important and delicate task, but Eragon knew that he needed help as this couldn't be done with just himself, unless he wanted Dras Leona and the Empire to realize that Eragon Shadeslayer was within their borders. He was just thankful that Immun and the soldiers did not know his true identity as a Rider.

Though, unknown to Eragon, Immun actually did know Eragon's true identity as the Blue Rider, though the aging man never mentioned it to both Eragon or even his comrades in the Order of the Black Lotus. Immun was a man of honor and character, despite the reputation the Empire had portrayed their fronts as, which was true in some regards as they were notorious for smuggling and thieving, but for reasons that weren't evil in truth.

Eragon had _Undbitr_ buckled at his hip with _Blödhren_ buckled on the other side, his hand on the worn leather hilt on the off chance that the situation went sour which, in his experiences, happened far too often. Though a dagger wouldn't be as helpful as Brom's sword, it was less flashy in the case that Eragon would need it.

B_e careful, Eragon,_ Saphira said to him, fear laced in her voice that made his heart ache at the thought of her hurting because of him. _The last time we were in Dras Leona… this city has made us suffer far too much to allow it to happen again._

Eragon instantly knew what his greatest companion was implying, sorrow overcame him as he remembered fleeing this rotting husk of civilization with his life on the line. He had almost been killed a few mere leagues from the city, had someone not saved his life at the cost of his own.

Brom.

If only he could turn back the sands of time to save him, the man who had been more of a father than Morzan had ever been. He would give anything just to hear his advice on what to do now that his destiny had been altered so greatly. Would Brom have approved of his desertion, or would he be disappointed that he had run from the rebellion Brom himself had founded? If he could just understand why Brom had saved him that night when the Ra'zac ambushed them, why he had given his life for Eragon's. He was Eragon Morzanson, his father and Brom had been the most bitter of enemies. His own father had slayed Brom's Saphira, damning him in a way only a Rider could understand and fear.

Why did Brom give up his life for the son of his worst enemy?

Brom had to have known that he was the son of Morzan, why else would Brom have moved to the desolate village of Carvahall if not to keep an eye on his enemy's progeny? Brom had been watching him his entire life, always there but never interacting save for those brief moments of storytelling. Did Brom fear that the young boy who dreamed of dragons and adventure would turn into his father, a monster?

Eragon wanted to laugh bitterly as he remembered the stories Brom had regaled the villagers with, stories he had listened to with wide eyes and open ears, the legends of the Fall. Brom had been rather descriptive of the Forsworn, his hatred for them obvious for all to see. And out of all of the thirteen Wyrdfell, Morzan was always the one who was the most bloodthirsty, the most villainous, the most barbaric, the most monstrous. Did Brom say these things, though true, knowing that Eragon would hear the stories? Did Brom find some sense of vengeance upon the man who killed the other half of his heart and soul by influencing his youngest son and corrupting Morzan's image to his own son, making his child fear and hate his own father?

If his father had survived his duel with Brom, would Brom have made Eragon fight against Morzan? Pitting the son against the father?

_You shouldn't be thinking like this, little one,_ Saphira said softly, concern and worry flowing through their bond along with -was that _guilt?-_ as she flew high above him, hidden by the clouds. _You know as well as I that Brom would never do such things to you._

_He could have told me, Saphira._ Eragon said as anger bubbled within him suddenly. _Oromis-elda _should_ have told me, but neither of them did and I found out anyway on my own,_ he said bitterly, why had no one told him?

Did they fear if he knew of his origins, he would suddenly transform into his father? Did they fear that knowing that he was the son of a Wyrdfell he would desert the rebellion and return to the Empire?

Well technically he _had_, but that was completely beside the point.

The point was that no one thought that telling him about the identify of his father was the wisest course to follow. Wouldn't it have been smarter to have been told this during his training by Oromis? Surely Oromis had known, his father had trained under him after well, as well as Brom. Brom must have surely told him about Eragon's existence, as back then Brom must have thought Eragon was the only son and heir to Morzan, as his older brother Murtagh had been hidden from the world for his entire childhood. He could somewhat understand why Brom never said a thing to him; he hadn't been the most level-headed of people back then when he had been traveling throughout the Empire on his vengeful hunt to slay the Ra'zac, but it didn't stop the hurt that Brom didn't trust him with the truth of his parentage. What would Eragon have done besides raging and possibly flying away with Saphira? It wasn't as though he would have slit the old Rider's throat while he slept in some type of twisted revenge for a father who had never known him.

There were many things Oromis needed to have told him, his parentage was one thing, but the existence of an Eldunarí was another. He knew that his apprenticeship had been cut short due to the war, but why hadn't Oromis told him the reason for Galbatorix's rise to King and his monstrous amount of power? Had Oromis known? He must have surely, before the Fall Oromis had been a member of the Council who denied a grieving and half mad Galbatorix a new dragon, surely he and Glaedr were aware of a dragon's Heart of Hearts?

_There are some secrets that are better off staying secrets, Eragon,_ Saphira said sternly, though Eragon could feel her unease through their bond.

_And some secrets are better off being told,_ Eragon rebuffed angrily, trying hard to conceal the hurt in his tone when he saw that Saphira wasn't on his side, it was _his_ parentage after all and to see her side with Brom and Oromis cut at him deeply.

_Little one…_ Saphira said mournfully, her guilt nearly overtaking his anger.

Eragon cursed himself that Saphira had realized his hurt towards her, the guilt he felt coming from her side of the bond due to his words made himself feel twice as guilty for thinking that Saphira would not side with her Rider, her Chosen.

_I'm sorry, Saphira, I did not mean that,_ he thought to her softly, _Please forgive me. You must know that of all the beings in the world, you are the one I trust the most._

He expected to feel warmth overcome him from their great bond, shared feelings that out of everything, they always had each other to turn to and to trust without hesitation or fear of betrayal. He didn't expect to feel guilt and self-loathing, but that was exactly what was coming from his other half of his heart and soul, it confused him greatly.

The Blue Rider was jerked out of his thought when he saw the crowd had started to disperse, cursing himself for being so careless to his surroundings; Eragon realized that the auction was over. Only ten of several dozen were unsold, men and women alike from one of the slavers he would target. He watched as the slaver and his guards walk away with the chained humans.

Eragon followed them for several minutes; his own men following him like silent shadows.

The slaver was middle aged, strong but hardy, jet black hair slicked back by sweat though a few grey hairs had crept up around the man's temple. Green eyes stared impassively at Eragon's blue (having used magic to alter his appearance) as the guards surrounded him protectively whilst the remaining slaves immediately froze instinctively.

"Halt!" Eragon yelled as he stepped in front of the private guards and the slaver, _Undbitr _held tightly in his hand. The son of Morzan stood before them, several members of the Order of the Black Lotus stood behind him.

The slaver raised a darkened brow at Eragon, his face still impassive. "You're blocking the street," he said pointedly, almost bored as he looked at the ensemble of armed men before him.

"I'm afraid that I must, for I have a goal in mind that must be completed." Eragon said gruffly, his left hand on _Blödhren's_ hilt.

_Blödhren… Blood Oath… I wonder, how many oaths have been sworn with you?_ Eragon mused as he held the wickedly sharped blade that had been forged by his namesake, the First Rider, Eragon. _Have they all been fulfilled, those oaths sworn in blood? Blödhren… an odd name for the blade of leadership for the Order. What oath created your name? Did my namesake name you this, or perhaps his successor? Or mayhap their successor? Blood Oath… do you know of my Oath?_ Eragon asked himself ponderously. _My Ren… my Oath to keep…_

"And that is?" The slaver asked.

Eragon noticed something, his eyes narrowing dangerously as he did so. The slaver wore a faded tunic that showed his arms, but it was the tattoo on his forearm that caught his attention with startling clarity. A black flame danced across his arm, twisting violently.

The sigil of King Galbatorix.

The guards. They wore the common chainmail of foot soldiers, but the armor was highlighted and detailed with bloody crimson, golden twisted flames emblazoned, though they seemed to have been long faded and Eragon barely saw it, became apparent to the Blue Rider.

The slaver and his guards had been, or might still be, soldiers in the Imperial Army. They had sworn allegiance to the King. They might even be working for the king at that very moment, were those men, women and children sold under the order of Galbatorix? The thought left a rotten taste in Eragon's mouth.

_So many oaths I have sworn. I had sworn to avenge my uncle Garrow, whom I saw as my true father. When the Ra'zac tortured and killed him with Seithr Oil, I fulfilled that oath. I swore an oath of fealty to Nasuada, to protect and to serve the Varden until my last breath. I broke that oath the moment I deserted when I discovered their plots to either exile me or kill me. What am I when it comes to oaths? To the villagers of Carvahall, I am Oathkeeper. To the Varden, Oathbreaker._

"That sigil on your forearm, do you serve King Galbatorix?"

The slaver seemed to flinch ever so slightly, his fingers twitching to his tattoo that common soldiers were given when they were enlisted into His Grace's army, a brand forced upon them as though they were livestock. "Once," he said neutrally, but his eyes showed a different story, Eragon could practically feel the resentment flowing from him like the waves of the ocean. "But no longer." He finished.

"Merek…" One of the guards with the faded sigil spoke up, his hand tightened around the shaft of his spear. "We must leave, the City Guard…" he trailed off uncertainly.

The now known Merek ignored him, curiosity overcoming him as he looked at the unknown Rider. "You said you had a goal, unless that goal was to know to whom I owe my loyalty to? The answer is none, if you're wondering."

"Your allegiance does not matter to me. What matters is those behind you, those in chains and shackles who you try to sell like a common sow."

Merek laughed at that, amusement clear for all to see as his armed companions shifted closer to him protectively. "Ah, yet another cocky abolitionist. Hmph, save the lengthy spiel, boy. I've heard it all before." Merek scoffed out, watching Eragon's jaw clench in anger with a smug smile.

"No spiel," Eragon promised, "No lengthy speech about the basic rights all races are entitled to, no talk about the questioning of your moral character. No talking… just, fighting."

Eragon raced towards them at speeds only an elf could hope to compete with him, before Merek and his guards could so much as blink, Eragon had struck down the guard who had spoken to the slaver about the City Guard.

Merek and the others backed away, swords and spears held at the ready. A vein throbbed by the slaver's temple, "That man fought with me for many years in the Imperial Army, he was a brother…" Merek growled out as he charged at the Rider along with the others.

Eragon gracefully dodged the sudden flurry of quick sword jabs as his own soldiers rushed forwards and aided him, silent as shadows. Eragon paid them no heed, his attention fixated solely on Merek.

The young leader of the Order of the Riders faintly heard screams from the common civilians as they fled the street as the fighting progressed, swords clashed, spears pierced, shields blocked, blood spilt.

Merek gritted his teeth as he barely managed to dodge the sword, his eyes widening when he saw chinks in his steel sword, cutting deep into the core of the sword. _What type of metal has the ability to cut through steel so effortlessly?_ The slaver wondered as he saw _Undbitr_ with narrowed eyes, wonder filled them as he saw the sharp beauty in the sword of Brom. A perfect weapon, as beautiful as it was deadly. Merek winced as he was sent stumbling back from shielding one of Eragon's quick swipe, _By the Old Ones, am I fighting a man or an Urgal? _He wondered as he had never seen such brute strength before in a man, though he had seen it in the monstrous brutes known as Urgals when he fought in the Imperial Army, before he deserted.

Eragon didn't say anything, his brow furrow in the deepest of concentration. Though he was obviously the superior in speed, strength and skill, he wore no armor and thus was wary even with his wards, when battle came all thoughts left him, leaving him wary and cautious.

He watched as one of Immun's soldiers quite literally disarmed one of Merek's guards, the hand falling to the ground in a spray of blood, the crimson liquid dripping upon the mud-stained cobblestone.

"Brisingr!"

Eragon barely had time to turn his head in the direction of the shout as he caught sight of purple flames speeding towards him in the shape of a fireball. Before he could blink, the fire hit him square in the chest, he briefly saw Merek smirk and nod his thanks to one of his soldiers, though the smirk quickly faded when he realized that the fire hadn't harmed Eragon but simply disappeared, leaving his clothes unblemished.

"Wards," Merek realized with a scowl, "Always wards." He dodged the foot aimed at his shins quickly.

Eragon smirked, "They are rather effective… perhaps I should see if _you_ have some, Brisingr!"

Fire as blue as Saphira's flames shot from Eragon's palm, racing towards the human who, by pure and utter luck, managed to catch the brunt of the magical attack with his shield. The force of the spell sent the man flying onto his back, smoke billowed from the iron and hide round shield, molten iron dripping slowly.

Eragon sheathed the sword of Brom and instead drew out _Blödhren_, the curved blade glinted eerily in the sunlight, the energy within it making it glow as though the sword was ethereal, as though Eragon was holding a burned out star in his hand. _Blödhren _seemed to thrum at his touch, serene humming came from the blade as though it sang a song only he knew and only he could hear.

_Oaths… My Oath to my people…_

Merek stood up shakily, his entire arm and torso badly burned till it almost looked black, the tender skin charred to a crisp. Blood dribbled out of the corner of his mouth while more of the crimson liquid dripped from the open cut above his eye.

Eragon raced forwards, easily dodging Merek's clumsy swipe at his head, before the slaver could so much as curse him, _Blödhren_ pierced through the side of his chest, blood gushed out in torrents as he ripped the mystical blade away.

Merek fell down in a graceless heap, his sword dropped as he clutched at his wound, he didn't scream or yell in pain; instead he kept silent as he tried to stop the flow of blood.

Eragon turned his attention to the magician who had shot purple flame at him, the man stood there as though frozen, mayhap paralyzed by fear of Eragon's superior magical prowess, for such a powerful effect on a rather simple spell was terrifying to those who weren't Riders or because he had stabbed his leader rather effortlessly.

He focused on the man's right hand, he felt the power flow through him, begging to be released, his energy was an ocean and an ocean could never be contained. He released the energy that had formed and whispered a spell that was barely heard throughout the sounds of fighting and screaming. "Jierda."

He easily heard the snapping of bone from across the cobblestoned street, the scream that followed nearly made him wince. Suddenly the street was quiet, as silent as a graveyard. Immun's soldiers had either killed or knocked out Merek's guards, none of them had perished in the fight.

Eragon turned his attention towards Merek, who glared up at him with hatred.

"Mayhap I do have time for my spiel," Eragon stated without emotion towards the slaver who glared at him. He looked at _Blödhren_, the silver blade stained with blood.

_An Oath to keep in blood… My Ren…_

… _**To free…**_

"You think freedom is something that you can give or take on a whim," Eragon scoffed at the defeated slaver with anger. "That you can rip a mother from her child based on what you deem fit, that you can separate families when it seems to serve you best, that you can take away the rights all living beings are born with… You're wrong! No one, be they a king or a peasant, be they human or one of the other races, has the power to say and decide what to do with another's life so callously. A man may be able to command others and there are those who follow him, but only willingly with their own free will do they listen to those who have the power to lead because those who command are given the power by the people they give orders too. There is no absolute authority that can rip someone's freedom from them, just as there is no absolute authority that can give them freedom, for they must take a stance for themselves. I am not the absolute authority, but I'll be damned if I do not help those in need, I will be the one to break the shackles and chains off of those you and your fellows have so cruelly captured, but _they_ will have to be the ones to decide what to do now that their chains have been broken and their shackles shattered…"

"You… _fool_," Merek gasped out, holding his bleeding wound as he looked up at the disguised Rider with hatred. "You may have power and there are those who follow you," he glanced at the gathered soldiers of the Kuro Hasu, "But you are _wrong. _Freedom is something that one can snatch if they are quick enough… freewill…. _Bah,_ you are as ignorant as you are shortsighted, boy. There are hundreds of fellows just like myself who follow the cycle of a slaver. Search, find, capture, and sell. That is our motto, and you are not the first to question why we do what we do… do you want to know why we do this? Because we _can._" He spat out a glob of blood as he glared up at the Blue Rider. "A king has power over his subjects, that's why he's a king. As I have said, you are hardly the first to question what we do, but the reason why the others have disappeared is because to your individual opinion on one of the oldest professions there are those whose opinions differ from yours and they outnumber you a thousand to one."

Eragon looked down at that, remembering the crowds of potential slave owners, dozens of them from wealthy and educated backgrounds, how even those who weren't there to buy walked past the cages of imprisoned men, women and children without a look back. "It is true, that there are many, or rather the majority, of people who see my views as a fool's dream, an unattainable goal… _But…_" Eragon looked back up, staring down Merek the Slaver with eyes burning in fierce determination, "Even if I alone must overthrow the regime created by slavers such as yourself, whether I must fight an army all by my lonesome self, I will gladly do so!"

… _**To protect…**_

The street grew silent at Eragon's statement; people ranging from common citizens to beggars paused at his words, shocked by the Rider's belief that change is possible when change had been so far from their sights.

"You are correct that a king has power over his subjects, but all the kings in Alagaësia, both Galbatorix of the Empire and King Orrin of Surda, have lacked the power to do what kings were created for. To protect those who cannot be protected. To shield those who must be shielded. To feed those who are starving. To aid those who ask for it. Galbatorix has done _none_ of those things," Eragon spat out, remembering the harsh winters with his uncle and cousin back in Carvahall. How if the fields hadn't produced enough food for the winter, they had to ration it until it was all but a couple bites of gruel, the thought of meat always making him wander the Spine, hoping for a doe or buck to bring back meat that was so greatly needed. He remembered one winter it snowed so badly that they couldn't even leave their house to go to their storage barn, they had been reduced to eating the skin off of fur pelts, their breath apparent as the cold sapped at them with it's slow, icy fury. Galbatorix could have sent help to the smaller villages who were so desperate for food and warmth; Carvahall and Ursur were just two of many farming villages who were ignored by their monarch. Eragon had lost too many loved ones to the harsh winters; his aunt Marian who he had always thought at his mother was one of them. Galbatorix turned a dear ear and a blind eyes to the subjects he had supposedly sworn to protect.

… _**To shield…**_

"And if the kings are as you say, what then, boy? Do you have the power to topple Galbatorix from his throne? And if the King were to be killed, who then shall reign the Empire? You don't understand, fool… this cursed life is all but a cycle, meant to be repeated over and over again until the world is finally reduced to ashes. Those who are innocent are always the ones to die for those of the wicked, it's an endless cycle, like my trade. Search, find, capture, sell. But for those of higher birth it is; war, kill, control, reign. There is no breaking the cycle, the Riders of Old might have been able too, but the cycle killed them off as well. There is no breaking it!" Merek declared with eyes that showed pain and suffering by those above him, eyes so mournful they truly believed in what he said. That those of innocence are killed by the wicked.

Eragon thought of what Merek said, and couldn't help but agree. _Aye, the Riders of Old fell to the swords of Galbatorix and his Wyrdfell… but they, like Murtagh had said at the Burning Plains, were gluttonous fools, not by feasts and wine, but of glory, arrogance and power. They believed themselves indestructible, the greatest of authority, kings bowed their heads and knelt before their might, nobles cowered at the sight of their dragons, it is no wonder why the Fall happened so quickly and suddenly. They were destined to Fall… as we are destined to Rise. Never again shall the Riders believe themselves immortal and all powerful, gods in fleshed forms, not while I lead them._

He thought of his student, Ronan, who understood the cruelty of Galbatorix and of his deafened ears and blind eyes when directed towards those of low birth, Ronan had confessed that he once had a younger sister, a beautiful spirited little girl who looked so much like her mother, his mother had died from frostbite when they had no more wood to burn during a harsh winter, who went by the name of Grida, only to be killed during the winter when food became scarce and their pleas for help was never returned.

… _**To aid…**_

"I won't stand here and try to convince you of how I see the world, everyone is entitled to his own opinion, even if the opinion is one I don't agree with. I do not wish to rule, I never have. But all cycles have an end, even if to just start over again. Galbatorix overthrew the Riders and King Angrenost during the Fall… I intend to overthrow him in this Rise…" Eragon turned his attention to those chained and bound and walked over to them. They were ten in total, men and women alike, they huddled together fearfully as he came closer, distrust in their eyes.

"Jierda…" He whispered softly as blue sparks erupted to life and the iron chains turned brittle and broke. "The Rise is coming…" He announced to all, his focus upon those he had freed. "You are welcome to join me."

"You are but one man," Merek protested weakly.

"Aye, I am. But one man can become two, and those two can become ten, and those ten can become a hundred, and then become a thousand. I cannot ensure that we will win, but I can assure you that you will never have chains placed upon you and your loved ones again." Eragon vowed. _And I am a Rider, I am no normal man,_ he thought offhandedly.

The former slaves glanced at one another, before one of them stepped forward. His face was expressionless, eyes as cold as the snow that littered the Beor Mountains. "Do you promise that we shall be free from the likes of _him?"_ He spat in the direction of Merek, "Do you swear to protect us from those like him, to be the shield we need, to aid us, to protect myself and my loved ones?"

"I do…" Eragon vowed solemnly eyes staring directly into the man's.

… _**to lead them to a better life where there is no Mad Kings to force them into chains or servitude… where there is no tyranny… only peace… to free my people… to Rise… That is my Oath.**_

The man knelt, head bowed. "Than I shall join you," he declared, "You broke my chains and shattered by shackles… you freed me, so now I shall join you and your cause."

Eragon smiled at him warmly, offering him a hand to which the man graciously accepted and the Rider helped the former slave to his feet. The others knelt as well and Eragon gave them a hand to help them to their feet. He might be their leader, but he was still one of them and always would be. The Varden taught him that, all pieces of the puzzle that made up the army was important, a common foot soldier was the same as someone in the cavalry, a captain to a general, a general to a grunt. They were all his people, the people of the Empire, his home, his ruthlessly cruel home ruled by a madman with the strength of dragons behind him.

He too had that strength though greatly minuscule compared to the Black Rider. But now he had a new strength, these individuals who had knelt before him, vows of fealty on their lips. Though small in numbers, soon they would grow until an army stood behind him, ready to overthrow the Empire and her King.

_Will you tell them your true identity, Eragon?_ Saphira asked sharply, seeing the positives and the dangers to revealing such information.

_I must, for how can they hope to follow and trust me with their lives when I cannot trust them with my own name? Immun has offered them asylum from the City Guard, I shall reveal my true identity there and tell them of Utgard._

_What of Ronan and Bjartkoü?_ The dragon asked curiously.

Eragon hesitated with that, his students must be kept secret until they had no other choice, and for their own safety he would not inform his followers until they reached the safe haven that was Utgard. _In due time, Saphira. In due time._

Eragon stood up proudly, eyes gazing over the faces of his followers with pride burning in his heart. The son of Morzan was proud to see these men and women, who had been sold like cattle and broken, rise up as one.

Immun's men would scour the city for slaves and break their chains, with Eragon leading them. The charts of slave routes and those who owned other human beings would be a great help for them, and soon these ten would become something greater.

For now Eragon's own rebellion was fifteen strong, if he included himself, Saphira, his students and Arya, but their numbers would only grow larger and stronger as the days passed. The times for hiding in the Spine had passed, Eragon Shadeslayer and Saphira Bjartskular had finally returned to the rebellion they had fought for, but instead of the terms of the Council of Elders, Nasuada and King Orrin the Rider and his dragon now fought on their own terms.

_The Fall is over, Saphira. The Rise has come._

* * *

><p><strong>Ancient Language<strong>

Kuro Hasu – Black Lotus

Blödhren – Blood Oath

Ren - Oath

Wyrdfell – The Forsworn

Brisingr – Fire

Jierda – Break

* * *

><p><strong>I'm rather proud of this chapter really, it's my first ever time writing something so revolutionary before, so I hope it was to every ones liking. Since today is my birthday I thought I'd treat all of you guys with this chapter.<strong> **Tell me if you guys enjoyed the chapter, I might have rushed the ending but I wanted to update it on my birthday so I might go back and make a few minor details like grammar and spelling. Also, poor Saphira, we all know why she feels so guilty when she can't tell Eragon the truth about his father due to her vows, that puts her in a rather emotionally painful situation.**


	27. Haunted

He watched her as she laid in the meadow. Beautiful, bright wildflowers bloomed around her in a sea of petals, the woman herself lounging on a bed of grass with a smile that made his heart melt. She caught his gaze, warm loving green meeting passionate brown. Her face crinkled into a smile, her tinkling laughter was music to his ears, it was intoxicating, the woman before him. Everything about her made his love stronger and greater than ever before. She beckoned to him with a finger, her face set in a teasing smile as she looked at him with pure love in her eyes.

He slowly walked to her, pushing past the sea of wildflowers in his haste, trampling through the ocean of grass in his eagerness to reach her. He laid down besides her, he on his side as he gazed at her in wonder. How had he been so lucky as to catch her eye? This goddess turned mortal? How had he managed to capture her heart?

He loved her so much… their hearts were not two, but one. A single heart beating at the same pace and tempo. A single soul shared between two lovers, love pouring out of them like floodwater. He loved her with all his being, as she loved him with her own.

He ran a calloused hand through her hair, the sun made it shine like beaten copper but it felt as soft as silk under his touch. She raised her hand to his cheek, her thumb caressing the bristles of his beard.

"I love you," he whispered suddenly, as though afraid he would never be able too again.

She smiled at him, "I love you too." She whispered back.

He held her in his arms, her soft curves melding into his hardened muscles like two pieces of a puzzle, a perfect fit. She smiled as she looked up at him, and he had to wonder, was there anything more perfect than the woman he held in his arms?

No, there wasn't.

His hand trailed down to her back, softly caressing the pale skin with surprising tenderness, before his hand found itself at her stomach. His heart jolted and beat wildly as he looked at the growing bump on his love's stomach, a physical reminder of their love. Their child growing within her.

"I feel so safe," she sighed into his arms, watching him as he softly stroked her growing stomach. "My family is safe here."

He smiled at that, though it was a wistful smile. He could feel his child -_his child!-_ kick at his touch. "He has the kick of a mule," he stated offhandedly, his face pressed against her hair. She smelled of wildflowers, pine and of home. How he wished to lay there for all of eternity, safe from his enemies and with his love and their unborn child.

"Oh?" the woman raised a brow at that, "And what makes you think our child will be a boy?"

The man smiled at her lovingly with a hint of smugness, "Call it a father's instinct." He boasted proudly with a hint of smugness.

She looked smug as well, delighted at their game. "Well seeing as _I_ am the one carrying this baby, I believe that a mother's instinct is greater than a father's. I think _she_ will be born a girl."

He didn't look disappointed, if anything he looked even happier. She saw his eyes glaze over slightly, lost in thought. "Mmm… a little girl with your hair… and my eyes…" he wondered at that, seeing the child so clearly. "A little girl who gets her fierceness from her mother, a dragon in human form that is just terrifying," he laughed as she smacked him teasingly. "And my stubbornness too," he thought with a shudder, he shifted down until his head rested softly against the swell of his love's womb, "I'm sorry little one," he whispered as he listed to the kicks as joy swelled within his heart.

She kissed his temple, her lips as light as a butterfly's wings. "She or he will be perfect." She assured him, voice soft as she thought of the child waiting to be born to a loving father and mother. "Perhaps it will be a boy, with your face and my hair… and your father's eyes."

He tensed at that, sadness and sorrow overcoming him as he thought of his father long cold in the ground. _Father…_ he thought to himself solemnly, _I hope I've made you proud. If only you could have lived to see your grandchild born. But alas, life is cruel to those who are kind._

"I love you," he whispered to her again, his lips meeting hers. He pulled away and placed his forehead against her own, "I love you." He whispered, intoxicated by her eyes, by her everything.

She leaned her forehead against his, smiling warmly at him with eyes sparkling like gemstones. "I love you," she whispered to him.

The man had never felt so content and happy in his entire life, all he needed was the woman in his arms, the woman who was carrying his child. His beautiful wife. What mattered of the war that encircled them like hungry crows when he could be here, with her?

He suddenly heard her gasp in terror, her hands flying to her mouth as she stared at something behind them. He leapt to his feet as he spun around, his weapon in hand that had appeared from nowhere, he stared in shock.

Men surrounded them, dead men. Some of them were riddled with arrows, some missing limbs, some with gaping wounds that still bled and some with their heads smashed like a crushed robin's egg. They were all similar in one aspect, aside from their gruesome demises, and that was that they wore the armor of the Imperial Army.

"_You…"_ the single word was whispered from a dozen mouths, a truly ghoulish sound that made the man tense like a cornered rabbit, the hairs on the back of his neck rising. "_Killer… Murderer… Monster…"_

He gasped in pain at that, falling to his knees as though the weight of the world had been pressed upon him. The men surrounded him, their dead glazed eyes staring at him from beyond the Void, soulless eyes that stared into him with freezing clarity.

"I'm… not a murderer," the man gasped out, face contorted in sheer agony.

The faces of the men he himself had slain stared at him with those soulless eyes. "_Vengeance…"_ the word was whispered by all. One of them stepped forward. He recognized him immediately, though his own hand had smashed half of his face. He had been a soldier at Carvahall… he had been his first kill. The dead man held a sword that had been shattered, the broken blade rusted.

Another man stepped forward, bruised skin a decaying grey. Eyes vacant as fogged glass.

The man could have been twenty five, but his hair was as white as an elders'. He held a poleax in his hands. Blood still poured from the gapping hole in his throat, just barely under his chin. The watchman from Narda, his eighth kill and the one that haunted him the most.

"_I had a family. A wife whom I loved, children whom I held dear… you took me from them…"_ The watchman whispered out, his words rough and barely coherent as blood spluttered and sprayed from his wound in shower of crimson as he spoke.

"I… didn't mean too… You knew who I was… I _had_ to, to protect those that I held dear!" He protested weakly, drawn to the fatal wound he had inflicted when the man had uttered his name so long ago.

"Roran…"

Roran Garrowson turned around to stare at Katrina, only she wasn't there anymore. In her place stood the watchman, who had somehow appeared behind him in the blink of an eye. The watchman stared at him with those blank eyes, his dead gaze burning into him with the fury of dragon fire.

He held his hammer tightly in his hand, sweat on his palms made it hard to hold but he managed. _"Vengeance!"_ The watchmen yelled suddenly as he raced forward, the poleaxe aimed towards Roran's heart. The dead man was on him in the blink of an eye, Roran barely having time to dodge the swipe that would have cleaved his head off of his shoulders.

With practiced ease, Roran swung his mighty hammer and watched as the man's helm and skull cracked like a dropped robin's egg, blood and bone spraying and splattering in a bloody shower of gore.

But as the watchmen fell to the ground, blood spilling from him in massive surges that it sickened the former farmer, the man's form suddenly seemed to shudder and shift. Hair as white as silk slowly faded into brilliant copper, tanned skin fading into pale skin, the facial features –those that weren't horribly maimed- shifted and changed, becoming smaller and narrower, turning into a face he recognized instantly.

"_No!"_ The scream that came from Roran Stronghammer was a cry that would have shattered hearts had others heard it. A scream of pure agony and horror, the sound of a man breaking and crumbling unto himself, a soul being torn and ripped asunder.

"No, no, no, NO!" Roran screamed and screamed until his voice grew hoarse, and even then he continued his mantra. "No! Gods why!?" he wept bitterly as he held Katrina's cooling body, hands bloodied as he held her against his chest. She was barely recognizable, her face had been caved in by his hammer. "No, please, Katrina… _Katrina…"_ She did not stir at his words, would never stir again. He had killed her.

Katrina was dead.

He had killed her.

He shook and howled, agony in his tone as he continued to curse the heavens and hells that had cursed him. The men he had slain had disappeared, leaving him alone in a meadow whose wildflowers and grasses were wet and stained with blood.

"Katrina..." he sobbed into her neck, tears sliding down his cheeks to meet with the blood that trailed down her neck. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry…"

Her eyes stared up at him, bright and sharp eyes that had once burned with love dulled like fogged mirrors, that spark of life gone forever, snuffed out by his own hand. She was so cold. Why, why was she so cold when she used to be so warm?

He had killed her.

He smashed her head in with no hesitation, no remorse.

He was a killer.

A murderer.

A monster.

Katrina was dead. Killed by his own hand, like the men who had haunted him before, like the watchman from Narda.

He sobbed against her, his hand placed against the swell of her stomach. Realization hit him like a charging Kull ram, he hadn't just ended Katrina's life, he had ended another. He had snuffed out the life that had never been born; he had killed his wife and their unborn child.

He sobbed against her cooling form, pitiful gulps of air taken as he tried to breathe but found himself unable too.

"_Roran!"_

He jerked his head up at the sound, eyes squinting at the harsh sunlight. That voice, that beautiful, angelic voice. Katrina's voice that spoke to him from beyond the Void.

"_Roran!"_

Gods, was she now haunting him like the soldiers? He couldn't bear the thought of seeing her ghostly apparition with those he had slain in battle, perhaps with a babe in her arms. He wouldn't bear the sight, he would rather die and be with Katrina, if she forgave him for killing her and their unborn son or daughter. He couldn't live without Katrina. He wouldn't manage a day without her in his life. Katrina was his heart and soul, if she were to be taken by the Void; Roran would follow her in a heartbeat.

"Leave me be!" He screamed to the heavens, pulling his hair as the blood dried on his face, making him feel as though it were a mask.

"_RORAN!"_

He jerked awake, breathing heavily as he gasped for air. He turned his head around, not recognizing where he was. He wasn't in the meadow, he was in a room. It took him several wild seconds to realize he was in his room, he glanced to his side.

Katrina was wide awake, her hand clasped over Roran's arm, she looked positively terrified for him. He must look terrible, eyes bloodshot, heart stammering, and a face so tortured it made her gasp. "Roran?" she asked softly, raising a hand to his cheek. Roran jerked away from her soft touch as though burned.

"K-Katrina?" He whispered to her, his voice full of hope that the meadow had been all but a terrible nightmare. He enveloped her in a hug, all but crushing his wife as he held her, tears of joy and relief streaming down his cheeks and into his beard. "Oh thank the gods, you're alive!" He cried into her shoulder, kissing everything he could reach.

Katrina looked at him, utterly confused for a moment but then realization struck her. Her eyes turned watery as she spoke softly, "You were having another nightmare, weren't you?"

Roran stayed quiet, though he knew it was foolish. Katrina was too smart to not know that something was wrong; she cared too much about him to not notice.

She sighed into him, looking weary and far older than she truly was. She always looked like that, Roran realized, ever since she had returned from her cruel imprisonment by the Ra'zac, she had been colder to people, as though trying to hide away the torture that she had undergone. Only when she was with Roran or one of the Carvahall villagers, such as Gertrude or Birgit, did she truly smile. "I wish we knew where Angela was, I'm sure that she knows some potion or concoction to help you sleep."

Eragon's cousin and cousin-in-law had met the strange herbalist when she had, quite literally, barged into their tent muttering something about toads and frogs, never minding the fact that Roran and Katrina had no idea of who she was. Roran had grabbed his hammer, thinking her an assassin come to kill them. Angela just stared at him and muttered something under his breath, and suddenly Roran blacked out, having an extremely bizarre dream about toads in the process.

When he had awoken from his forced slumber, he had found Angela happily chatting with Katrina, who was softly smiling at what she said. The sole reason Roran had forgiven the odd woman for breaking into their tent _and_ knocking him unconscious was because she made Katrina smile, the first outsider to do so since she had arrived to Aroughs.

Angela had then introduced herself, happily telling them about how she had known Roran's bull-headed cousin, Eragon, and then randomly asked if they would like their fortune told.

They had declined, but Angela didn't seem to be insulted, if anything she smiled ever more.

That encounter had slowly enveloped into what Roran would call an extremely weird and bizarre relationship with Angela the herbalist, if one could even call it that. She mostly discussed, with complete and utter seriousness as though it were life and death, toads and frogs and how they were actually the same species. She had also been rather gentle with Katrina, which was surprising because nothing about Angela could be said as 'sensitive', and had helped console her over her imprisonment by the Ra'zac.

He however hadn't seen the witch for several weeks, nor had he seen her silent shadow. Elva.

Just the thought of the cursed child sent shivers down his neck, the next time he saw his cousin he was going to yell at him for cursing, though most likely by accident, an innocent child and turning her into some odd pain empath who felt the suffering of others. She was only a child, but had felt greater pain than those decades her senior.

"Would you like me to fetch Gertrude, Roran?" Katrina asked him softly.

Roran shook his head, "No. I am fine, let the old woman rest." He refused the idea of help, for he seriously doubted that a sleeping potion would help him with his vivid nightmares filled with terror.

"What did you dream about, Roran?" His wife asked him softly, looking at him with such worry it made his heart twang at the sight.

"I don't want to trouble you with my burdens," he whispered to her. She had already suffered enough because of him, the Ra'zac had captured her because they knew he loved her and would do anything to get her back and would try to enlist his cousin, their original prey, in helping him. It hadn't necessarily happened as the monsters had planned, as Eragon had fought them by himself without Roran ever truly asking for help.

"Roran, I am your wife, your burdens are mine to carry as mine are yours," Katrina said stubbornly, a glint in her eye that warned him that it would heartily foolish to disagree with her. "What did you dream of?"

"I..."Flashes of the men he had killed swarmed his mind, their vacant eyes staring deep into his soul, their thirst for vengeance upon their killer. The guardsman from Narda… how he had killed the love of his life, Katrina. "I dreamed of them again… the men I've killed. They haunt me."

_No bard has ever sung of a hero's guilt, no storyteller ever told the story of how the valiant warrior awakens from his slumber screaming _as men long dead kill him in some twisted form vengeance. _ Am I the only one who must go through such heart wrenching agony? Am I the only one who is haunted by those long since faded into the Void? Am I truly a warrior, or am I craven? I was born to be a farmer, not a killer, but yet here I am with my hands stained with the blood of others._

"How can I ever hope to return to Palancar Valley and live in peace when my soul is stained black with the blood of hundreds, Katrina?"

Katrina kissed his brow tenderly and placed her forehead against Roran's own, she stared at him with determination burning in her eyes. Strong green eyes stared into confused brown, "Roran… Your soul has not blackened like rot, it is still as pure as freshly fallen snow."

Roran looked away from her, too ashamed to look his wife in the eye. "You are wrong Katrina, my soul has begun to rot, and it isn't pure. It never truly was."

"Roran… why do you kill?" Katrina asked him softly, cupping his cheek with her hands to force him to look at her. "Why do you fight, Roran?"

"I kill for love…" Roran shut his eyes tight, Katrina's hand caressing his cheek. "I kill for you… I kill for Eragon… I kill for the villagers, Horst, Baldor, Birgit, Fisk, Gedric, Gertrude, Morn, Nolfaverell, and all the others… I kill so we may all live to see another day, even if I must make sure others cannot as well."

"Is that what a normal man would fight for, Roran? No. Some men fight for glory, as though taking another's life is well worth the price for boasting rights at the tavern. Some men fight for coin, men who have no true loyalty except to themselves. Some men are just dark men; they fight because they wish to kill. You are not those men Roran, you just said so yourself. You fight for love. You fight for me. You fight for your brother, Eragon. You fight for your people, the people of Carvahall." Katrina said softly, pressing her lips against his temple.

Roran sighed at her touch, leaning into her neck as he inhaled her heavenly scent. He twirled her copper hair in his calloused fingers, "What would I ever do without you?" he all but whispered to her.

She smiled at him, her eyes twinkling like gemstones. "You'd probably do something stupid, like believing that your soul was stained."

He laughed at that, chuckling softly into her.

"Go back to sleep Roran," Katrina whispered to him. By the gods she looked so beautiful in the darkness that it made his heart twang, as he knew that she was his and he was hers.

"Alright…" Roran said as he slowly laid back down on their shared cot, wrapping his strong arms around Katrina's slender form. _I would never hurt her,_ he thought to himself as he closed his eyes, his hand straying to her swollen stomach. _And I would never hurt you, little one._

Roran slowly felt sleep overcome him, but now instead of nightmares that plagued him, only sweet dreams welcomed him as he held Katrina and their unborn child in his arms, safe from the world that wished them dead.


	28. Stenr Rïsa

"Stenr rïsa."

Roran was staring at the pebble nestled in his palm determinedly, gazing at it with so much intensity it was a surprise that it hadn't caught aflame. His fingers tensed in preparation as Roran Stronghammer tried to reach into the dark crevices of his mind, the desolate shadows that contained within their oppressing bonds the ability of magic. He searched and searched, eyes narrowed in concentration as veins began to bulge from his temple. He found nothing in his mind but his own frustrated thoughts.

"Stenr rïsa," he said, willing the pebble –such an annoying little stone- to rise into the air at his command. The pebble stubbornly remained nestled in his palm, happy to remain there without so much as a twitch of movement.

Carn was watching him with a sly grin, obviously enjoying the show. "Having fun there, captain?" He asked jovially as he drank from his mug. Katrina sat beside Carn, drinking from her own mug of nettle tea and watching her husband try to perform magic with a barely suppressed smile.

Roran felt his face redden, though whether from the mental strain of trying to make a stone rise from his palm or Carn's annoying comments at his lack of magical prowess he did not know. "Having a ball," he said dryly as he returned his attention to the small rounded stone in his hand.

"Stenr rïsa."

The stone stayed still, not even moving so much as a hairs width. Roran's eye was twitching dangerously as his temper flared when he heard the sniggers that Carn was trying –and failing- to hide by drinking the nettle tea Katrina had prepared for the magician.

"Perhaps you're pronouncing it wrong," Carn offered as he sipped his tea with a chuckle.

Roran's eye twitched dangerously, thick fingers clenching into a tight fist that hid the stone from view. "Oh, am I?" He asked darkly, brown eyes alight in indignation. "Well let me try again, I promise you this, the stone will move." Roran turned away from the magician with a indignant snort, before he said clearly, "Stenr rïsa."

The pebble flew through the air and hit Carn right in the middle of his forehead before bouncing off and landing into his tea with a gentle _plop._

Carn blinked, bright green eyes flicking upwards towards the reddening mark on his forehead before numbly looking down at the pebble in his tea. Suddenly he reddened greatly as his brows narrowed dangerously when he realized what had truly happened. "You _threw_ that!" He declared with a scowl as his slender fingers dipped into his tea to retrieve the little stone.

"I said the spell," Roran said smugly as he leaned back in his chair, winking slyly at Katrina who merely rolled her eyes at her husband's childish ways.

"T-That was no magic," Carn spluttered out, looking rather odd with the small reddened mark on his pale forehead. "You threw it, that doesn't mean you did it." He sniffed, "There was no magic in that, just you."

Roran refused to be swayed by the magician's words. "It does not matter, I said the words and the stone flew from my hand and hit you, just as I predicted!" He declared proudly, grinning from ear to ear.

Carn's eye twitched dangerously, a weary exhale of breath came from his nostrils. The normally introverted magician couldn't help but say again, "You threw it and you know it!" He fumed, before he grinned as he plucked the pebble from his tea with his fingers. He held it up for Katrina and Roran to see, "This is magic. Stenr rïsa." The pebble rose as though plucked from Carn's fingers by an invisible hand. The stone hovered in the air, floating.

Roran grumbled under his breath, a little resentful at Carn's knack for the magical arts. "A pebble will do you no good if I attacked you with my hammer."

"What if I make the pebble shot towards you so fast it goes through that thick head of yours?"

"My thick head is my best armor, nothing can pierce through it."

"And nothing can come from it either."

"Why you-!"

"Boys." Katrina cut in, making both warrior and magician glance at her, before returning to glaring at one another with contempt and scorn. Katrina had left her seat to stir a pot of soup, the amazing smell tickling at their nostrils, and in her hand was a ladle. "If you two will kindly put aside your petty differences, I will not be forced to hit you with my ladle." She swung it experimentally, looking like a warrior wielding a sword.

The two warriors were cowed under her piercing glare that demanded respect, and both men couldn't help but agree that even with their prowess over weaponry or magic, an angered woman was the deadliest of them all. Especially when said angry woman was very pregnant. And so the two proficient warriors bowed their heads, mumbled apologies to one another and gratefully took their soup as Katrina smiled sweetly at them.

_Roran's wife is something else, I have to admit._ Carn thought to himself, with a musing grin, glancing at his friend who was whispering something in Katrina's ear, whatever he was saying was making her smile at him, a smile that seemed to light up the whole room. He was holding her in his arms, hands gently placed at the swell of her stomach that held a growing life.

Carn tried to ignore the bags under Roran's eyes, the look of haunting that plagued him throughout the days. Carn tried to ignore the scars that lingered on Katrina's soft, pale skin. Marks left by the work of the most monstrous of monsters, the Ra'zac. He did not know why Angela or any of the other healers hadn't removed the scars with magic, though he had reason to suspect that Katrina herself did not want them removed, as though to have them serve as reminders.

Roran was the strongest man he knew, a greater friend and a loving husband, but Carn knew that he, like many, was haunted by demons. And he wasn't alone either. Katrina might smile and laugh in the safety of their room, alone with her husband and his friend, but when she left that safety Carn saw those warm smiles become forced, those light green eyes darkening and turning cold at a moment's notice, and a look of haunting would dwell beneath her eyes, hidden but still very much there. There was a similar look of haunting hidden in Roran's eyes as well.

_The Empire has taken too much from them,_ Carn thought to himself mournfully. _They lost their fathers, though one was a traitor, and their home to the Mad King and his men. But yet, they survived and will continue to survive. They know the dangers that are waiting for them outside of Aroughs, hell even _in_ Aroughs. If they wish to survive this bloody war, they must be prepared for the worst. _

He knew now why Roran had approached him all those weeks ago asking for lessons of magic. He had thought it odd that the skilled warrior would even care about the magical arts, but Roran had surprised him when he had stubbornly stated that he needed to be prepared for the worst.

And so Carn gave him a pebble, that pebble from before, and had told him the words to raise the stone without touching it, hoping that the frustration of failure would spark that same magical energy that dwelled within everyone, a dormant power waiting to be unleashed. But yet, despite Roran's swears and curses directed towards that little rounded pebble, the stone never rose. No dormant powers awakened. No magic burst from his palm, no energy flooded his body. There was nothing.

Roran could never become a magician, he could never utter a spell and expect it to work, he could never make that little stone rise, and Carn knew that Roran knew it as well.

Roran knew this, he knew it the moment he first searched for that pool of energy dwelling within his subconscious, hidden but there. He could never summon fire to his fingertips, he could never enter a man's mind and crush them from the inside, he could never break things without touching them, he could never make that pebble –that _stupid_ pebble- rise from his palm.

A part of him was disappointed.

The other part was relieved.

Roran had never trusted magic or those who used them when he had been a farmer in Carvahall, the thought of fire being summoned with a wave of the hand and a few words whispered seemed impossible, the thought of stones rising without anyone touching it scared him. Magic was an unknown back then. Magic was terrifying and those who wielded it must have surely dabbled in human sacrifices to gain such terrifying, godlike power.

He knew differently now. Magic was still terrifying, but it was no longer unknown to him. He had seen his fair share of spells, of fire being summoned and power gained, he had seen it on the battlefields. He had seen it as he killed the Twins, smashing their bald heads in with his hammer, how they had killed so many with spells and castings. He had seen it from the Laughing Men, those who refused to die or feel pain. Magic wasn't some foreign idea spoken by Brom when he had been a child, a legend of power that wasn't real. Magic was real, he had seen it from his brother, Eragon, when he fought men at the Battle of the Burning Plains and again at Helgrind, he had seen it from Carn, his best friend, who had stayed by his side through thick and thin. Magic was real.

Magic was dangerous.

He had seen Carn during their many shared battles, how he always looked as though he had been slowly drained from the inside, as though his life was slowly being taken before his very eyes. The exhaustion that followed, the weakness that remained, the ever looming threat of a painful death always apparent.

A piece of him yearned for that power, to engulf his enemies in flames, to crush their minds with his own, to break their bones without touching them, to heal those he loved that were injured, to raise stones. Some part of him that didn't fear magic yearned for it and it's godly power.

Roran didn't want magic to control others, he didn't want it to force his leadership over those who feared magic and its users, he only wanted it to protect those he loved.

_Not to mention how many of the soldiers view magic, and those who wield it, in a weary view,_ Roran thought to himself.

Most of the soldiers that made up the Varden were farmers' sons looking for glory, or just commonborn who had no education. Their views on the arcane art of magic were full of fear, mistrust and riddled with silly superstitions. They did not trust magicians, be they human or one of the elves. If anything, the human soldiers mistrusted all of the races but the dwarves, who had proven their loyalty to them countless of times by having sheltered them for years in the capitol, Farthen Dûr, and for fighting and dying in battles alongside the humans.

The majority of the Varden mistrusted the Urgals and Kull, bitter memories of battles and feuds with one another tended to keep tensions high, but even the elves had been viewed a bit distastefully as well.

Where were the elves when the Urgals invaded Farthen Dûr? One soldier would asked another.

Where were the elves during the Battle of the Burning Plains? Another would ask bitterly.

Where are they now? Up in the north where they aren't of use to the Varden. Another would say angrily.

Tensions were high in the Varden. There was an instinctive wariness directed towards the other races and magicians from the common soldiers that caused distrust, and it was steadily gaining ground.

Roran was so caught up in his thoughts; he did not notice Carn staring at him with concern.

"Perhaps you are not meant for magic, Roran." Carn said softly, watching from afar as Roran's jaw clenched tightly and his fingers curled into fists that pressed against his thighs.

"Perhaps," Roran said through gritted teeth. He wasn't angry at Carn, he never could be, but he was angry at himself. He was angry because of how useless he was when it came to making that stupid stone –that annoying little pebble- rise through the air.

Eragon was capable of amazing feats. He had seen the havoc his brother had wrought on their enemies, both Ra'zac and human alike. He was capable of creating fire from nothing, casting light where darkness prevailed, amazing feats that should not be possible but yet were.

_Eragon is a Rider,_ Roran reminded himself. _He's different. He is no normal man, but a Rider._ His fingers unconsciously trailed towards the simple gold wedding band on his left ring finger, the index lightly running over the small imprinted runes. _But, Rider or not, no single man can take down the Empire and the Mad King. He needs help, and I am more than willing to join him on his crusade._ Roran would do anything for Eragon, his brother, and he knew that there were others in the Varden, including those from Carvahall, that would rather follow Eragon Shadeslayer than King Orrin or even Nasuada.

_If Eragon truly does what I think he's planning… what Eragon himself confided to me on the way to the Varden after Helgrind… I must get stronger, magic or no magic it does not matter. I must be stronger to protect Katrina and Eragon, and by my hammer and shield I will become stronger than before._ Roran thought to himself with determination.

Roran Stronghammer was perhaps the greatest human warrior to live since Gerand, a reluctant warrior who had taken up a hammer instead of a sword and became a legend amongst humankind, but magic was something Roran could not do.

He wanted it desperately, but wishing for something does not mean it will be granted. He did not yearn for power, he only yearned for the safety of his loved ones. He yearned for Katrina and their unborn child to be safe from the dangers of the world. He yearned for Eragon to return without fear of losing his head or banishment. He yearned for the ability to make the situation better, if only by a little bit.

But the power of magic seemed to be blocked to him, hidden away in some tiny corner of his mind where it would dwell forgotten like fading memories.

_It does not matter,_ Roran decided as he looked at the stubborn stone that refused to budge. _A man's fate should be in his skills with a sword and shield, where one earns the right to live. A magician might have magic on their side, but what are they without it? No, perhaps its best to remain with my hammer and shield, for I have always relied on them and they have never failed me like spells and wards could at any given second._

Magic was useful. There was no denying that.

But Roran Garrowson didn't need to wield magic to protect the ones he loved; he had his hammer and shield and was glad for it.

"I need no magic, Carn." He told his brother in arms, who nodded his head at that in silent agreement.

"You're already the greatest warrior I've ever seen Roran, you don't need magic to make you strong." Carn said.

Roran fiddled with the pebble, fingers rolling it over his palm. He stared at it, the stupid round pebble that looked like every other pebble Roran had ever seen but held a piece of him that was full of loathing. He stared and stared, unable to break his gaze at the innocent stone resting in his palm.

For one last time, Roran tried to feel that supernatural energy that dwelled within all living beings, the energy to cast spells and wards, the energy to create magic. He felt nothing, he sensed in his mind but his own disappointed –relieved- thoughts

"Stenr rïsa." He said again, so softly it was but a whisper.

The stone never moved.

Roran didn't expect it to.

* * *

><p><strong>Whew! I'm back guys! Yes, I'm making a Roran arc because I wanted to flesh out his character more and I know that Carn died in the Assault of Aroughs in the books, but this is fanfiction and I really loved Carn's character and thus I kept him alive. Remember that little bit about the Varden soldiers concerning magic and the other races, that'll be explored later on!<strong>


	29. The Council of Elders

Five people were seated before him on intricately carved seats, almost throne-like in appearance. No doubt spoils of war from sacking the castle of Aroughs during their invasion. The five people were on a dais, elevating themselves from the lone chair in the middle, a plain chair that looked rather rickety.

Roran recognized one of the five as Jörmundur, Nasuada's right hand man.

Two men, one tall and one broad, sat beside him. A woman with pinched lips, close-set eyes, and elaborately painted cheeks sat beside the broad man. Another woman with an immense pile of gray hair above a matronly face, belied by a dagger hilt peeking out of the vast hills of her bodice. The woman with painted cheeks stared down at the approaching form of Roran Garrowson with pursed lips as the other woman idly tapped the pommel of her dagger. The two men were emotionless, faces reminiscent of stone statues.

Roran, suddenly self-conscious, slowly sat down in his chair, wincing at the sound of the ominous creaks that erupted from the aged wood in protest to his weight.

Though Katrina had given him his best garb to wear for this meeting, a hand stitched wool tunic of Katrina's design, beautiful in its simplicity, the two men and women wore the finest of silk for cloth, their stitches the color, and possibly made, of gold instead of yarn. Only Jörmundur wore a simple tunic, though he wore it under chainmail.

The Council of Elders.

Roran cleared his throat, uncomfortable as the five stared at him, as though searching for something in him. "You summoned me?" he asked them, nervous.

Jörmundur nodded his head, besides him his fellow council members looked down upon Roran Garrowson with interest. Jörmundur seemed to straighten himself from where he sat in his chair, seated in the very middle with the other councilmembers flanking him.

"Indeed we have, Captain Roran. The Council has summoned you here for a matter of grave importance."

"And that is?" Roran valiantly tried to mask the suspicion in his tone. He didn't trust the Council, they had been some of the most adamant of the Varden leaders to question Roran's story of what had happened at Helgrind. None of them seemed to have believed him fully, perhaps finding Roran distrustful. Had they summoned him to discuss the whereabouts of Eragon? He knew that they did not believe his story.

The woman with painted cheeks blinked at his words, painted cheeks reddened. She didn't seem pleased with him, if the narrowed eyes were anything to go by. She seemed to try to hide her displeasure behind a simpering smile, revealing yellow teeth. "Nothing terrible, we assure you, Roran Stronghammer." She said, her voice soft.

Roran didn't fully believe her. Though if the Council had realized that he had lied about his adventure in Helgrind, surely they would have detained him for treason? They wouldn't have brought him to their chamber with no guards to be seen.

The tall somber man spoke next, eyes the color of tempered steel and a voice like thunder. "You have been promoted, Stronghammer."

Roran blinked, unable to understand. He was a Captain in the Varden, the only higher position that could be attained by a soldier was…

"Commander Roran." The other older woman called his name, breaking him from his thoughts. He faintly remembered her name was Sabrae.

"Yes?" He asked her, still trying to comprehend what was happening.

Sabrae looked at him warily, as though questioning his promotion herself. "Do you understand the importance of this promotion?'

"Aye, my lady." Roran said dutifully, bowing his head before the Council in a show of utmost respect, even though he only did so to hide his confused expression from the Council, least they interrogate him and ask him questions that he would rather leave unanswered.

Roran was doubtful. He looked back up at the Council of Elders, all too aware of the lack of Nasuada's presence. She, of all people, should have been there to promote him. She alone held the power to do so, but then why was she not there?

"Does Lady Nasuada know of this promotion?" he asked them, as her absence had been terribly apparent to him the moment Jarshan, a young messanger, had escorted him into the room.

Unease suddenly went through the four figures like a breeze of wind, the only one who maintained his composure was Jörmundur.

"Of course our leader knows of this, Roran Garrowson," Sabrae sniffed out, head raised up as she looked down upon the new Commander with heavy-set eyes, she looked thoroughly offended but Roran noticed the tension in her shoulders.

_They say Nasuada knows of this, but if she were the one who wanted to grant me such power, surely she would be here right now? The rank of Commander is no small achievement, with such power I have the ability to have my own troops who have to follow me. Wouldn't Nasuada be the only one, save Orrin, to grant someone such power?_ Roran thought to himself.

"Than why is she not here herself?"

There it was again, that ripple of unease. Sabrae looked at Falberd, as though for reassurance while Jörmundur watched on silently, never once speaking.

It was Umérth who spoke then, his voice as gravely and somber as his expression. "Lady Nasuada has too much to accomplish as our leader, and while you have been of a great service to the Varden and her people, Lady Nasuada did not have time to attend this meeting, as she had more important matters to attend to, I'm afraid. She is, of course, aware of this meeting taking place as well as your promotion to Commander." He said this placidly, as though that alone could silence Roran's suspicions.

_Interesting how they only say that Nasuada has knowledge of this meeting and my sudden promotion, but yet they do not say it was Nasuada herself who entitled me to the rank of Commander. Did Nasuada not wish for me to become a Commander, or did the Council promote me on their own accord? _Roran wondered. _If so, for what gain? I am no noble, nor am I wealthy. I have nothing to give them, nothing…_ Roran's eyes widened at the startling realization, _but my blood._

They hadn't promoted him because of his prowess on the battlefield, nor due to being beloved and respected by the soldiers. They had promoted him to the rank of Commander because of one person: Eragon.

_They've lost their Rider, _Roran thought to himself grimly. _They have to make due with someone who shares his blood. Eragon is my cousin, his only family, and the Council will no doubt use this to control the soldiers. As a Commander, I have to report directly to Nasuada and, through her, the Council of Elders._

They didn't want him to lead, to help ensure the success of future battles. They only wanted a pawn. To them Roran was nothing more than a puppet, and they were the puppet master pulling the strings. Guiding him. _Controlling _him.

_I am no one's puppet!_ Roran thought to himself angrily, gritting his teeth as his hands curled into tight fists.

Eragon had warned him of this. He had warned Roran of the Council of Elders during their flight back to Aroughs. His cousin had warned that those of higher power might try to take advantage of Roran because of his relation to Eragon. He had been right, it seemed. The thought infuriated him more than anything.

"You will, of course, have new responsibilities. In the absence of your cousin, you will remain within the Varden, no longer will you and your men be sent on raids You shall remain here in Aroughs." The grey haired woman with the motherly voice said this with a sweet smile, but Roran could see the slender fingers wrapped around the pommel of her dagger.

The unspoken threat was clear: We're watching you.

_They don't trust me!_ Roran concluded grimly, hands still clenched into tight fists that he hid from the Council of Elders. _Do they suspect that I am a traitor to the Varden? Do they know that my true loyalties do not in fact belong to Nasuada or that bastard Orrin? Do they know that I am aware of the treachery that has been given to my brother? Do they know that I am loyal to none in this city, but rather to someone who they have betrayed?_ Roran grew worried more at each thought, doubt seeping into him at the thought of his true loyalties being discovered._ No, surely they cannot know._ He rationalized to himself, thinking back on the past few months in relief._ I have done nothing to show signs of disloyalty to Nasuada, though my contempt for King Orrin is well known by all. But I am not alone in such thoughts, most men in the Varden dislike the sovereign of Surda, save the Surdans of course._

"The Varden is starting to break, Roran Stronghammer." Jörmundur said gravely, catching the man's attention immediately. Out of all the men Roran had meet within the Varden, Jörmundur was one of the few the former farmer trusted. Jörmundur was a man of the people and wanted what was best for the Varden, unlike Orrin who seemed more concerned with gaining power and wealth for his own country. "Slowly but surely, the foundation that was created by Brom and preserved by Ajihad has started to be chipped away, little by little. These past months have been trying to our people and our cause. Our men have been questioning our leadership, creating tension in the city. It began suddenly and slowly, but now our very cause is on the verge of breaking."

_It started with Eragon, Jörmundur,_ Roran thought to himself. _It started after the Battle of the Burning Plains, when Orrin and that dwarf Vermûnd dared to suggest killing my brother in cold blood, stabbed in the back by those he trusted and swore his life to. Nasuada might have tried to prevent it, even though exile is by no means helpful, but in the end… this started because of Eragon and it will end because of Eragon._

"Some of our soldiers have lost faith in us," Sabrae began. "Ever since your cousin disappeared after the Battle of the Burning Plains, suddenly disappearing into the night to never again be seen, men have begun to lose faith."

_Eragon didn't disappear, Sabrae, he fled,_ Roran thought to himself darkly, wanting nothing more to tell them that, but held his tongue.

"I do not know why my cousin fled after the Battle of the Burning Plains. As you are well aware, I had only just sailed there with my fellow villagers, we met briefly but the heat of battle separated us. Eragon gave no reason as to why he left, we did not have much time to talk." Roran said. It wasn't a lie either. Eragon had left before they could talk with one another. It was only during Helgrind did the two cousins confront one another after a year of separation and hardship.

He saw Sabrae share a meaningful look with Umérth.

"You must understand, Roran, that the Varden is on the verge of destruction. We must not let that happen, if we do than all that we have sacrificed will have been for naught. All the lives given to taking back our freedom and homeland would have been for nothing," Jörmundur said, looking tired and weary. He looked like a man with the weight of the world on his shoulders.

"And what would you have me do? Men may follow me willingly into battle, but I cannot prevent the destruction of the Varden alone." Roran couldn't help but point out.

Jörmundur looked tired, the grey in his hair seemed to have spread and wrinkles around his eyes had formed deeper than ever. Roran felt pity for Jörmundur, the one man in the Council that had the people in mind. Jörmundur was a good man, just and loyal, and it pained Roran to see him look so defeated.

He did not know where Jörmundur's loyalties would lie at the end of this war. The man was loyal to Nasuada and would never betray her; did that make him Roran's enemy? Would they one day meet on the opposite sides of the battlefield when he eventually defected to his cousin's side when the time was right, or would Jörmundur see reason and aid them? Doubts plagued him, Roran did not know what side Jörmundur would remain on.

It was Falberd who spoke next. The shorter man seemed a bit shaken, nervous even, as he spoke. "The Varden must not fall, Commander Stronghammer. All we have fought for will be for nothing if we allow ourselves to fight with one another." Besides him Umérth nodded gravely while Sabrae pursed her lips. "You have something that none of us posses. You share the blood of the Varden's hero, Eragon Shadeslayer."

_I knew it!_ Roran thought to himself, struggling to hide his emotions from the Council of Elders._ They are interested in my blood. They know that Eragon still holds sway with the soldiers, despite his absence, and know that most of the soldiers will listen to me as I share blood with their Rider._

"As Eragon is no longer with us," Falberd said it as though Eragon had perished in the battlefield, "_You_ must take your cousin's place."

"I am no Rider." Roran reminded them.

"But you share the blood of one." Umérth stated, expression grave.

Sabrae glanced at her fellow councilmember, Falberd, as Umérth said this; the two shared a meaningful look with one another.

"In such dark times, we must prevail. You are well known to the Varden and even beyond our ranks for your prowess in battle. You are a skilled tactician and hold the trust and respect of your men well. It was unanimously agreed upon that you would be promoted." Jörmundur said, looking at him weirdly, it was as though Jörmundur knew of Roran's thoughts speeding through his mind, seeing the indignation brewing within him at the thought of being nothing more than a glorified puppet.

"You're a good man, Roran Stronghammer, and even though you have had, er, small altercations with authority in the past, we believe that now is the best time for you to ascend the ranks." Falberd said.

Oh Roran was well aware of his past encounters of his troubles. His back throbbed painfully at the reminder of the whiplashes that had been given to him months before, due to ignoring orders. It was a wonder he lived, if not for Angela and her healing abilities he could have died from blood loss.

He knew all too well what happened when he stirred the hornet nest that was the Varden's authority, but that still didn't stop him from following Eragon's request.

No matter what, even under the threat of death by treason, Roran would follow his cousin's request. He would ensure his cousin's victory in the war that was coming. Eragon had told him of plans to create an army, a true rebellion, and Roran wished to help his brother in as many ways as possible. And now Roran was a Commander, the highest rank in the military, he had control over hundreds of men. Soldiers whose allegiance were to him.

Falberd was correct when he said the Varden was breaking, but he was wrong about one thing: the cause. It had been Orrin and those who wished Eragon harm that had helped break down the Varden. And now Roran would ensure that the Varden could never hurt his cousin nor his cause. Roran held no allegiance to this Council or even to Nasuada. Eragon was the only one Roran would willingly kneel to. Eragon Shadeslayer was the key to it all, the harbinger to a new era of peace and prosperity for the people of the Empire.

_Eragon is the champion of the Varden. Your so called esteemed Council may have power in politics, but Eragon holds the hearts and loyalty of the soldiers. And when he left, so to did their loyalty. Some soldiers, pah, more like the entirety of the common soldiers, who make up roughly the majority of the Varden._

These people, this Council of Elders, were complete and utter fools. They believed a few words and some promises could save the Varden. They did not realize the severity of the situation. They did not realize that they were not in control, they assumed they were in control, of both Nasuada and the Varden. But they were wrong. The soldiers cared not for the men and women before him, save Jörmundur, and did not hold their allegiance to them. Their loyalty was to Eragon: their Rider.

Roran had to bite his tongue to stop himself from saying these words to them, refraining from speaking. He could not give himself away, he could not let these people know that he was a traitor. He could not fail Eragon. He could not fail his people.

So Roran quietly bowed his head to them, muttering his gratitude and assurances of his cooperation and loyalty, and they believed him. Sabrae exchanged a not so subtle smirk with the ever dour Umérth, though he could see something flickering in Jörmundur's eyes, something weary. _I'll have to be wary of Jörmundur_, Roran realized.

"You are excused, Commander Roran."

He stood up stiffly, bowing his head once more. He left the tent silently, eager to find Carn and his men to tell them of his promotion. New possibilities had been opened for him, new opportunities to change the war. He only hoped that it was enough.

Eragon was counting on him.

He would not fail his brother.


	30. Age of Oppression

**Just a quick author's note: the next chapter will be updated much sooner than usual; you will understand why when you finish the chapter. I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it, and I'm sorry for any grammatical errors but it's late where I am right now and I really need to go to sleep as I have the ACT test tomorrow. I'll probably fix any errors or anything I don't like about the chapter tomorrow afternoon -most likely the chapter name because I didn't want to spoil what happens in this chapter- but right now I'm going to bed. Hopefully I pass my ACT and go to college! I'm a bit curious to see your reactions to this chapter. I've been planning for this to happen forever!**

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><p>"<em>We drink to our youth, for the days come and gone.<em>

_For the Age of Oppression is now nearly done._

_We'll drive out the Varden from this land that we own,_

_With our blood and our steel we will take back our home!_

_All hail to Galbatorix! You are our great King!_

_In your great honor we drink and we sing._

_We're the children of the Empire, and we fight all our lives,_

_And when the Void beckons, every one of us dies!_

_But this land is ours and we'll see it wiped clean,_

_Of strange races that have sullied our hopes and our dreams._

_All hail to Galbatorix! You are our great King!_

_In your great honor we drink and we sing._

_We're the children of the Empire, and we fight all our lives,_

_And when the Void beckons, every one of us dies!_

_We drink to our youth, to days come and gone,_

_For the Age of Oppression is now nearly done."_

The bard finished his song to the cheer of the crowd, copper coins falling into the man's open bag that was laid at his feet. The tavern was crowded with workers who had come for their daily mug, dimly lit and full of rowdy conversations; it was rather easily for Eragon to meet with Imun without fear of eavesdropping or ambush.

"It's been a while since I've heard that song," Eragon said idly as he drank from his tankard.

"Oh?" Imun raised a brow as he drank from his own tankard. The man had removed his hood, allowing Eragon to see his features for the first time. Imun was older, possibly nearing his fiftieth year, his dark hair having turned gray, and a long beard trailed downwards, but there was a certain youthfulness in his eyes. His eyes were a light brown, like chips of warm amber.

"It used to be a popular song with traders. Though perhaps it was only popular to prove one's loyalty to the Crown, rather than actually worshipping Galbatorix," Eragon said with a ponderous frown.

_I've heard that song before,_ Saphira mused._ In the Varden; it was sung by the soldiers. The lyrics are different, however._

_They are the same song, only with a few words twisted and tweaked. The Empire and her people call the song the Age of Oppression, whilst the Varden call the song the Age of Aggression. One praises Galbatorix and condemns the Varden, whilst the other praises the Varden and condemns King Galbatorix. The rest of the lyrics are the same, save for the title._ Eragon explained to her.

_How so?_ Saphira asked curiously.

_Instead of praising King Galbatorix, the Varden sings 'Down with Galbatorix! The killer of kings. On the day of your death we will drink and we will sing' seeing as Galbatorix slew King Angrenost of the Broddring Kingdom to form the Empire we know today._

Saphira's reply was dry: _You humans and your songs…_

_Humans are not the most creative of the races, but our convictions remain strong and true,_ Eragon defended himself and his race to the dragon who merely snorted at the reply.

"There are two sides of this song," Imun mused, unknowingly repeating what Eragon had informed Saphira of. "It's interesting how similar both songs are and how a few tweaked words can change a whole meaning."

"Aye," Eragon agreed with the man, drinking from his tankard to hide the small smile playing at his lips.

Imun stared into his tankard thoughtfully, pale fingers stroking the chipped rim and grayed brows scrunched together ever so lightly.

"It's interesting, how sides are formed, of how sides control and change."

"How so?" Eragon asked.

Imun looked up him with those ageless amber eyes, suddenly weary. "There is always a side. Everyone is either on one side or the other; never can one have a foot placed on each side, a medium, for one of those sides will pull him to them." Imun stated as he stared into his mead. "The sides control those who join, oppressing them in some ways, but there is always a choice to make. Think of this, this world has been divided into three sides due to the war. The first side is supporting the Empire and King Galbatorix, some people might think lowly of those on that side, for many loathe the Black King and wish for him to enter the Void, but many of those on the Empire's side do it to protect their homes, their land and their loved ones."

Eragon thought of that, a lump forming in his throat that made him struggle for breath. He thought of the many Imperial soldiers he had killed by his sword, arrows or magic. Had those men -most of them mere boys- only fought against him to defend their homes? Roran and the other villagers had fought for their village and loved ones, though it had been against the Empire, but that alone gave them the strength to flee the borders and reach Surda. Did the men who plagued him at night also plague their wives, parents or children with their absence? Most of them had been boys, boys turned men in time of war and hardship. Eragon could have easily been forced to enlist in the Imperial Army alongside his cousin had fate played out differently. Would they have been among those slain against the Varden?

Eragon knew that he would die for Roran, who was more brother than cousin. He would die for his loved ones. Had Saphira not hatched for him and if the Ra'zac had still attacked Carvahall, Eragon would have proudly fought by Roran's side to protect their own. He would have died alongside the villagers, but he would have died content at the thought that he had protected his home and loved ones. Did the men he kill feel such content, or were their last thoughts curses of his very existence?

The lump in his throat seemed to grow, constricting him and preventing him to breathe.

_We're the children of the Empire, and we fight all our lives,_

_And when the Void beckons, every one of us dies!_

His whole life, Eragon had fought. He fought for life when he had been born, when his mother, Selena, left him still in the cradle. He fought for his life whenever illness and disease struck his family. He fought for life during the harsh winter storms where food and warmth were scarce. He fought for Saphira when the Ra'zac appeared and –though Saphira had kidnapped him while doing so- for his uncle Garrow, though he had failed. He fought Durza. He fought Urgals and Imperial men. He fought Murtagh, his own brother and his dragon, Thorn. All his life, Eragon had fought.

It made him weary to realize that.

"The second side is the one supporting the Varden and Surda fight against the Empire." Imun continued, not realizing Eragon's dark thoughts." That one is an interesting side, comprised of multiple races. They even have a Rider with them. Or they did, until the Rider disappeared suddenly." Eragon shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "They fight for freedom. But what freedom is that? Galbatorix rules with an iron fist, there is no doubt of that, but in certain regards he is lax with handling his subjects. Why should Varden spend their resources and men fighting, when they can form their own independent nation? They certainly have both and the Hadarac Desert would serve as a border, protecting them from the King's wrath."

"Galbatorix would never allow such a thing to happen." Eragon murmured, "Surda only exists because the King never deemed it important enough to be brought to his rule."

Imun raised a brow at this, smiling as though agreeing. "Aye, Surda has only remained independent due to Galbatorix's lack of regard. I assume that this fact weighs heavily upon the Surdans and their king, to know that they could be crushed so easily."

Eragon held no sympathy for King Orrin.

Orrin had betrayed him after all. Weighted fears and paranoia of the Empire that weighed down on Orrin did little to make Eragon sympathize with the King of Surda, much less forgive his betrayal.

It was because of Orrin he was even here, surviving in the Empire while always looking over his shoulder, always weary of his location being found and brought to the King. He had no hope to defeat Galbatorix at the moment, his strength was too much for Eragon.

Imun studied him, noticing the weariness in the boy's eyes. "Northerners are often the most hardened of people," he noted softly, making Eragon glance up at him.

"How did you know I come from the north?" He asked, thinking of the features he had altered magically to make him appear with tanned skin and lighter features, something rare in the northern parts of the Empire.

"I was born in the north as well. I know you were too. I knew when I first saw you. The northern parts of the Empire are harsh and cruel to those who dwell within its lands, but yet still man has lived there for countless generations, carving themselves a place in that harsh, unforgivable landscape, but, as they did so, the landscape carved into them as well."

Eragon thought of his uncle, Garrow, who was a hardworking man that was proud of his simple life farming. His uncle had been a man of character, always willing to help any of the villagers. But he was also harsh. He knew that life was treacherous despite the tranquility that graced the northern villages safe from the threat of war, because their very homeland was a threat be it in forms of winters, famine, flooding, or heavy snowfalls that trapped all but fools in their homes.

"I know who you are, Garrow." The way Imun spoke, hinting, made Eragon tense in his chair.

_Eragon…_ Saphira murmured warily.

"What do you mean?" Eragon asked him, hiding his face as he drank deeply from his tankard, attempting to look relaxed when in reality he was wound tighter than a coil.

Imun laughed, "You really should give me more credit, boy. I'm not some daft stable boy who can't tell the difference between a dragon and a dragonfly." Imun leaned forward in his chair, hands clasped together. "It was smart, using magic to alter your face. Few would attempt it, too much could go wrong if one is not careful."

Eragon stared at him steadily, realizing that he held no weapons. His instincts were screaming at him to run, to get out of the inn. Saphira was whispering in his ear, telling him to leave, to flee.

He didn't.

He stayed in the chair; his curiosity outweighing his wariness by the smallest margin. If Imun was about to say what Eragon was thinking of, he would flee. He had learned long ago the dangers that sheltered in Dras Leona.

"What is the third side, you must surely wonder?" Imun reverted back to his original conversation. "It's _yours,_ Eragon Shadeslayer."

Eragon leapt to his feet, hand flying to the empty space at his side that_ Undbitr_, a spell already on his lips. None of the occupants seemed to have noticed him moving, too caught up in their drinking and own conversations. Imun sat still, clasped hands resting against the table.

_Eragon, run!_ Saphira was urging him. He could sense her alarm running through their bond, flashes of her vision swarming his own, she had taken flight from where she had been resting in a cave and was heading towards Dras Leona as quickly as possible.

"Please, sit down," Imun gestured towards the now empty chair, "I assure you that I mean no harm."

Eragon remained where he was, looking at the aged man with narrowed, suspicious eyes.

Imun sighed impatiently, "If I had wanted you harmed, I would have done it sooner. I've known your identity since our first meeting, and I have yet to tell a single soul."

Eragon realized that the man was right. Imun could have easily alerted the city officials and the lord of Dras Leona, Marcus Tábor, of his true identity and whereabouts. And yet he hadn't. It was because of that small piece of information, and that information alone, that Eragon sat back down, his body still tense and ready to spring away from the man in case of sudden attack.

Imun smiled at him as he sat down, he looked almost grandfatherly. "Now as I was saying, Rider." Eragon's eyes narrowed at the title, all too aware of the people around them. Imun noticed this and said: "Do not worry, this inn is owned by the Black Lotus and we are rather known for our strong concoctions and brews. Most of these men are rather drunk and will probably forget this night, and if one were to eavesdrop on our conversation Len will be more than happy to ensure they hold their tongues," Imun nodded his head towards a hulking man sitting at a booth near the corner of the room, surveying the room and its occupants with a dark scowl.

Eragon looked at Len warily, noticing the sword sheathed at his side. He had left _Undbitr_ and the Belt of Beloth the Wise in his room, under a myriad of enchantments to prevent someone stealing them. He regretted his decision.

"I am the second in command of the Black Lotus, only under Jorgr." Imun began simply, hands splayed out on the table.

"The Black Lotus is a criminal organization." Eragon noted.

Imun smiled at that, a smile that crinkled his eyes, "In certain ways, yes we are. But what makes a criminal? What we have done for you these past few weeks, freeing slaves and ensuring them safe passage up north, was illegal. But wasn't it right and just to do so, to free our fellow humans from other humans?"

Eragon remained silent at that, knowing that the older man was correct. What he had done had been highly illegal, but what he had done was just and right. Eragon too was, in a sense, a criminal.

"And what of you?" Imun leveled a steely gaze at the Rider. "Compared to myself, you're more of a criminal than I. The Empire does not know of me, but if it did I would be labeled a common criminal, while you are an enemy of the Empire, convicted of treason. There is a ransom for you, a rather hefty one too: an earldom. My ransom would be a couple of crowns, but yours is a castle, power and riches." Imun seemed to approve of this, perhaps even a bit impressed.

"The Black Lotus exists for a reason. We appear to be a criminal organization, and we have dabbled in many an illegal affair, but we are not your enemy, Shadeslayer. If anything, we share a common goal."

The bard had begun to strum his lute again, humming lowly. The bard began to sing then, singing so softly it was almost eerie. His soft words slowly resonating through the inn.

"_Down in the cellar and tossed the key. _

_I'll find my mum dead and that'll make three._

_Black she rides and ends the tides._

_Red Jenny comes for me."_

"And that is?" Eragon asked, unable to hide the curiosity in his tone.

The bard sang softly, a low crooning sound like a mother's lullaby to quell her children's nightmares. He strummed his lute, the chords plucked delicately and the sound seemed to ring through the crowded inn, the strings thrumming.

"_Scratch me eyes and rub with the poor._

_I'll find my pap dead and that'll make four._

_Black she rides and ends the rides._

_Old Jenny comes for me."_

"Why, to ensure the wellbeing of the Empire and her people." Imun said, drinking from his tankard. "You are a Rider, the only free Rider left. You are our only hope, Eragon Shadeslayer."

"_Wheat fields alive._

_I'll find my brother dead and that'll make five._

_Black she rides and ends the tides._

_Old Jenny comes for me."_

"Who are you people?" Eragon asked warily. When he had first heard of this organization, he had thought that they had been the average criminal guild. It seemed he was wrong. The Black Lotus was something else entirely.

"_The wind blows bad and twists _

_I'll find my love dead and that will make six._

_Black she rides and ends the tides_

_Old Jenny comes for me."_

The bard finished the song, bowing lowly as the drunken crowd roared in approval, banging their tankards of mead against the tables, chanting for more.

Imun drank from his own tankard, not answering the question for several moments as he drank. He smiled as he set down his tankard, dark brown eyes twinkling in good humor, before he stood up and placed several coins on the table to pay for the drinks. "An organization that transcends the borders of the Empire." He said vaguely as he wrapped himself in his cloak.

Eragon would have stopped him had he not been so bewildered by Imun's reply.

"Enjoy the rest of your stay within Dras Leona," Imun said candidly, placing something in the palm of Eragon's hand. "But beware of the city, Rider. There are a good few who would love nothing more than to see your head upon a pike."

Imun left then, leaving Eragon gaping at the man's cloaked back.

_What an odd human,_ Saphira mused from within his mind. Eragon faintly noticed that she had returned to the cave when she realized that her Rider was safe and not in danger at the moment.

_He knows something, _Eragon said to her. _He told me to beware the city, but whom must I be wary of? There are many who wish me dead, and they don't all reside within Dras Leona. But yet he sounded rather sure of himself, he knows something. _

Eragon looked at what Imun had placed in his hand. A single brow rose in confusion as he looked at it.

It was a pai sho tile with of a black lotus embossed upon it.

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><p>After leaving the inn, Eragon had returned to his own quarters at the <em>Golden Globe <em>to grab _Undbitr_ and the Belt of Beloth the Wise, though he left _Blödhren_ in his nightstand that was covered in a multitude of protective wards to prevent anyone, save himself, from touching the blade. He had decided to roam the streets of Dras Leona, eager to see more of the city before he returned to Utgard.

He had heard rumors of buildings being burned down mysteriously by flames formed from a multitude of colors, most likely created from magic, and was curious if he could find any information of what had occurred.

Eragon stopped suddenly as he saw a large crowd of civilians, young and old alike, rich merchants and nobles mixed with the ragged peasants. Above them on a raised platform, a man stood before them wearing robes so dark it reminded Eragon of suffocating darkness. The robes were adorned with red markings, the dark color reminding the hidden Rider of freshly spilt blood. For a moment Eragon thought the man to be a slaver, but he saw no chained humans beside him. He stepped forward curiously.

As he neared the crowd with curiosity, Eragon could hear the man on the platform speaking to the crowd. "We live in a time of hardship, the rebel barbarians known as the Varden are surging from the heathen south, taking away our lands, killing our people, and spreading the Empire into chaos!" His voice was smooth and seemed to have a certain pull towards it that seemed to bring the crowd towards him like a flock of sheep towards their shepherd. The mixed crowd were numbly muttering agreements as they looked at the speaker with interest in their eyes, as though whatever the man had been speaking of was what they had been thinking for the longest of time and only now was another singing the same tune.

"There is only one way to reach salvation in this time of sin and deceit!" The man continued, his dull brown eyes alight with passion and zeal. "The dwarves believe in their gods, merely farces of their drunken imagination -a sure sign of their ignorance! The cowardly elves hid in their forest and believe in no gods. Both races are heathens who have not yet seen the light that we, the humans, have seen! We alone have seen the true path, the path of salvation!"

The murmurs grew louder as more and more residents of Dres Leona crowded around the robed figure, who stood there arms spread wide as though to embrace them all. Eragon noticed how one of the sleeves seemed to droop near his right hand, the long flowing robes having hidden any sight of flesh the man had besides his face.

Eragon turned pale as he realized why the dark fabric drooped while the other sleeve remained up.

The man didn't have a right hand, the scarred flesh was a nasty pale white that surrounded the stump that looked as though it had been not chopped off, but _hacked_ with a butcher knife.

His sharp brown eyes looked at the speaker with renewed interest. While the flowing red hood hid the man's head from the hairline up, leaving only his face to be seen, the leader of the rebelling Riders noticed things that none of the crowd saw.

There was a flash of pale, chalky skin as the man beckoned the crowd to grow closer, the man was missing his index and thumb on his left hand, one of the digits of his pinky was missing as well. The man seemed to slouch ever so slightly, preferring to put most of his weight on his right foot. He could see a small crate, nearly hidden under the robes, where his left foot was placed.

It appeared that the man didn't have a left foot either. Eragon could tell by the way he put some of his weight on his left side, how unbalanced the man seemed without his foot or toes to keep him balanced. Still the crowd did not notice this. They stared up at the priest, for surely that what he must be, with wide eyes as they listened on and on, soaking up the man's honeyed words like the sand in the Hadarac would spilt water.

"Man is the superior race, for we have the favor of the Old Ones." The man announced, his honeyed voice lowering grimly as he told the crowd this important piece of information. "And man, and man alone mind you, has the knowledge and intellect to understand the Old Ones and to worship them, as is our duty!"

_Old Ones?_ Eragon wondered curiously. Having poured through many scrolls of the countless divine deities that the races of Alagaesia worshiped, save the elves, he never before had he heard of the Old Ones.

_Perhaps some minor religion that only the humans that call this city their home worship?_ Saphira's voice echoed in his head, a hint of confusion hidden within her strong tone, not that she'd let it show. She had no care for what other humans that were not her Rider worshiped.

_Perhaps,_ Eragon mused slightly to himself, but for some reason he couldn't help but notice the chill crawling up his spine, or how his stomach churned uncomfortably, sure signs of some dark premonition he had more or less synced with his body. He was a beacon for trouble, after all.

As Eragon continued his musing, the priest suddenly stilled, and, with a stiff slowness like that of a stumbling corpse, the man turned in Eragon's direction. Dull brown meet sharp brown, a sheep's gaze meeting that of a dragon.

And then the man's dull eyes, which reminded Eragon of muddy puddles, suddenly sharpened and _burned_. Had Eragon not been made of tougher steel, he may have backed up as the man looked at him with the rage of a thousand vengeful dragons. Pure hatred corrupted the muddy brown, turning the dull color into the glinting color of sharpened obsidian.

The man's form shuddered ever so slightly, the muttering humans did not notice with their weaker sight but Eragon would have been able to notice it a league away. It was not grief nor despair that made the man shake and shudder, it was pure unbridled hatred and rage, murderous fury with enough burning emotion to turn Du Weldenvarden into another Hadarac Desert.

By then the crowd had noticed something was amiss as the passionate man became silent, his gaze focused on a single face among a dozen others. A face that looked plain and common to those without the gift of magic or insight, Eragon had always been careful with altering his appearance so no one would recognize him.

For some reason Eragon wondered if the priest before him could see through his disguise, perhaps notice the way his eyes curved ever so slightly like that of an elf, or that his nose seemed a bit similar to that of his wanted poster. Eragon shook his head of these thoughts, his disguise was perfect, no normal man could detect him without him knowing it. The fact that his entire physical appearance was altered helped calm his fears.

The speaker got off of his platform, a small saddened smile stretched on his pale lips as he murmured condolences to the crowd of onlookers, stating that his duties were required of him elsewhere. The man then turned around and headed north, his pace hobbled and taut as his mismatched limbs struggled to work together enough to make the man walk. His dark cloak with crimson etchings soon faded into the sea of people, yet Eragon still felt wary.

_Odd,_ Saphira noted calmly as she looked through Eragon's eyes, a small hint of tension slipped into her voice. _Perhaps you should move on, little one._

Eragon blinked as though he had been stuck in some phase, almost sluggishly he nodded his head in agreement –not caring of what anyone would think of if they saw him nod his head in agreement to an invisible specter- the Rider turned the other way, stumbling through the crowd as though drunk.

As Eragon focused on why he had decided to wander the streets, the odd tale of burned buildings, the small bit of his head whispering their premonitions and worries but Eragon shoved aside those thoughts and instead focused on his mission to discover the mystery of the burned buildings; Eragon had been told of one of the locations and planned to visit. He had no time to wonder about the odd disfigured priest, nor to wonder why the priest seemed to hate him so.

Little did the young Rider know, the disfigured priest was not a priest of some minor religion that was unknown to most, but for an infamous cult renown in the Empire. The crippled man walked with a purpose to his mismatched steps, many of the civilians stepping out of his path as though burned by his very presence. Some bowed before him, some quivered and hurried away. In no time at all, his designation was before him.

A cathedral towered over the other buildings, its tallest spire reaching over five hundred feet. It

The priest's pitch black eyes became fixed upon the sharp spikes and pyres that seemed to pierce the sky itself, his eyes soaking in the etched pictures in the blackened stone. He entered the cathedral, noting the stone carvings that depicted strange beasts that from far away resembled a human, but from close up was nothing more than a nightmare turned reality. The priest's gods attacking and massacring misbehaving humans: the nonbelievers. As was the Old Ones right to kill the disobedient and weaker man.

He passed a statue that was nearly as old as the dark and forbidding cathedral. The priest stopped abruptly, his eyes taking in the sight of an Old One. Slowly he managed to bow himself so low his disfigured face nearly touched the darkened and mossy cobblestone. He muttered a quick prayer to the Old Ones: the masters of the humans. Gods and legends, judges and executioners, the destroyer of disbelievers, the drinker of their impure blood, the eater of man's flesh.

The priest then got back onto his mismatched feet and headed further into the cathedral, knowing the labyrinth of corridors and halls with acute memory.

The sightless eyes of the statue that depicted a Ra'zac seemed to follow the mutilated priest with grim satisfaction.

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><p>Eragon idly traced his hand against the worn cobblestone of an abandoned building, the roof now gone and nothing but rotten splinters and moldy hay. He pulled his hand away and saw that his tanned skin had darkened considerably, he rubbed his index and thumb together and watched as some of the dark powder rubbed off.<p>

_Soot_. Eragon decided as he looked at the blackened stone with cold eyes. _This house must have been burnt to the ground. It's hardly inhabitable. You think that the governor would want to not put houses to the torch, but alas what else is new in the Empire?_

_I don't think it's a house, Eragon. Look on the inside; notice the markings and rectangular patches of soot. Hardly something for a house, there were once benches and etched runes in here. I sense no magical energy so they must have been for decoration or for show. Perhaps this was a meeting hall for angry residents? I wouldn't be surprised, with the way this putrid heap of a city is run._ Saphira informed her Rider.

_Hmm, you're right Saphira._ Eragon agreed as he chanced a look on the inside of the building. Indeed there were the faint markings of soot and ash ground into the rough stone, where benches made of weak wood had once caught aflame as with the rest of the building.

_I do wonder though, who burned this building down? _Eragon wondered internally, his sharp brown eyes taking in every detail, before he squinted as he saw something hidden underneath years of stagnant soot. He walked towards the end of what must have been an aisle and stepped upon a rickety old platform that looked like it would be able to hold a house cat, yet alone a full grown human male. But somehow he managed to walk on the aged platform to little to no trouble.

Eragon called upon the Ancient Language. With a whisper so soft it was barely audible the Rider spoke a spell gently, and, as though a gentle breeze had come into the ruined and burnt building, the stagnant and somewhat faded imprint of a fire long extinguished slowly left its place among the rough stone to reveal something that set Eragon's teeth on edge.

A small set of ruins written in the Ancient Language was before him, the message the color of the darkest of crimson, and seemed to gleam in the soft sunlight like freshly spilt blood. He read the message, which said:

'_**The Old Ones shall reign, the unbelievers shall be devoured and slain, while the believers shall sacrifice those who do not do the same.' **_

Saphira's growl echoed in Eragon's head, vibrating in his skull so loud that he was afraid he would start to shudder. _An ugly omen and an even uglier meaning._ The dragoness stated with a snarl, Eragon wouldn't have needed the bond to know that Saphira's hackles were raised.

_Aye._ Eragon couldn't help but agree. His eyes were locked upon the runes that wrote _Old Ones_. Realization clicked as he turned around and looked about the burnt building with renewed interest. _Saphira, do you think this place was a temple? A place of religion?_

_Perhaps, it would explain the runes…. And the rather dark message to those who do not believe in these 'Old Ones'._ Saphira spoke, both Rider and dragoness wondered for the hundredth time what an Old One was. _Whoever that priest and his other disciples preach of, obviously they do not approve of other religions or places of worship that do not include their own…. I do not like this city, Eragon. We have been here before and you nearly died the last time… and from these crooked paths you and Brom fled with the Ra'zac on your heels, and where he died._ Saphira said mournfully, thinking of the deceased Rider and their first mentor. _This city is evil, little one. Its people and leaders corrupted, civilians suffer and cry for help but are never heard._

Eragon sighed wearily, knowing she was right. _And that is why we're here, Saphira._ He spoke to the dragoness with passion in his tone, the need to do right was obvious in both his heart and mind_. We can help people, even more so now than before._

Saphira was silent for several minutes, as the connection between them grew quiet with few thoughts flittering through the edges of their bond like wisps of smoke. Eragon finally left the ruined building that had once been put to torch by magic.

_Perhaps you are right. You've grown into a remarkable man, Eragon._ Saphira suddenly spoke, her tone warm as she realized how much her Rider had grown for the better instead of the worse, as many would have assumed to the betrayals in their lives.

Eragon smiled at her words, happy at her assessment of his character and pleased to know it was true, at least in his humble opinion. _I wouldn't be near half the man I am now without you._ Eragon's smile grew wider,_ and now that we've freed so many men from their slavers and 'owners' we can now leave this dark city until the time calls for us to appear yet again on these cobblestone streets._ Eragon paused outside of the burnt building, resting his back against the rough stonework as he looked up high in the sky.

Saphira laughed at that, the light growl echoing in his head, obviously pleased of the prospect of being able to be with her Rider.

Eragon's ear perked up at the sound of something whistle threw the air, the faint hiss of a fast object, the sound of a low yet sharp _twang_, the flutter of cloth against the soft breeze.

Eragon dove to the side as an arrow stuck to the rough stonework where his head had rested mere moments before, the rock shattering as the arrow pierced its wall, sending a cascade of chipped rubble and dust onto the Rider. His head snapped in the direction where the arrow had come, only to quickly roll to his side as yet another arrow flew towards at him with such speed it only appeared a small blur.

Eragon heard a roar of pure fury ring in his head; his body seemed to shiver at the pure emotions running through him. Despite his heartbeat pounding in his chest like a war drum, Eragon faintly heard a man shout a command. He heard the sound of more bows being drawn and arrows nocked, he heard the archers release the strings and the sound of arrows piercing the air as it came towards him with deadly speed and accuracy.

He desperately tried to leap out of the way, but the sudden onslaught of arrows forced him to try and shield himself with his arms, wrapping himself around his protective wards and spells.

He felt an arrow touch his enchantment before even being aware of where the arrow had been aimed, he felt the enchantments hold strong and true as his countless wards and defensive spells flaring up in order to protect him. For a second, Eragon believed that his spells and wards had stopped the arrow.

But then Eragon felt the arrow pierce through his many wards and enchantments as though they were nothing but air, slicing through the spells like a knife through warm butter, tearing apart his countless wards, spells, and enchantments like they were nothing but brittle parchment. All in mere seconds.

He was so caught off guard by his wards failing that he didn't even think of trying to dodge.

The young Rider howled in pain as he felt the arrow pierce through the fabric of his robes and into his flesh. His hand jerking towards his side where the feathers of the arrow protruded from his wound, he grasped his fingers around the shaft that appeared to be neither metal nor wood but he did not pull for fear of tearing more sensitive flesh and causing the wound to worsen.

He looked down at his bleeding wound and the protruding arrow with dim shock, his hands darkened by the stain of his blood. His head felt light-headed, whether from blood loss or the sheer fact that an arrow had broken through his spells and wards as though no wards had been placed there was utterly terrifying.

_Is it of elven make?_ Eragon wondered through the continuing pounding of his head, the pounding matching that of his erratic heartbeat. _Did Rhunön forge not only swords but also arrows? Only something of her work could do this… or am I wrong, and it's something more discreet and darker than that of an elf's work?_

Eragon felt his strength begin to desert him, his power disappearing. He felt weak, helpless. He felt terrified.

Seconds had only passed by but, as he kneeled there in shock and exhaustion, he was aware of men wearing robes rushing towards his kneeling from, but they were running as though trapped within slow moving molasses, their forms seemingly trapped through time as they slowly came forward.

He looked at where the tip of the arrow was sunken into his flesh; he saw a glint of sunlight reflecting against the shiny crimson liquid still seeping out. The glint was neither of white nor of yellow but of magnificent purple, the few centimeters of the arrow not sunken in his side gleamed up at him like gemstones.

There was just something _wrong_ about that purple metal, or perhaps it was some type of stone or gem? His blood was searing hot as though Saphira had surrounded him in her breath of fire, his veins burning as though they had been caught alight. But where the wound was, he felt nothing but cold and ice. His side was chilled while the rest was burning, he felt as though he had been stabbed with a frozen bar of iron. But it was just a measly arrow that had brought him down like a crippled doe.

He felt another arrow hit him somewhere above the knee, but by then Eragon's world was slowly turning dark. Since the first arrow Eragon felt his strength and energy leave him, leaving him as helpless as a newborn babe. He cursed himself, for he did not have the strength to call upon the Eldunarí for aid, and something told the Rider that they could not hear him anyway.

… _Saphira…_ he weakly called out to his beloved companion.

As his head hit the ground and he saw dozens of boots surrounding him, Eragon looked up towards the sky using the rest of his energy, his eyes strained to find her, but all he saw was the sky, and he knew it was too late.

His last feeling before the darkness took him was of regret.

His last thought was of Saphira.

As the darkness took over and Eragon became numb to the world and those surrounding him, he faintly heard Saphira's roar full of pure fury and terror ring in his head like a church bell, resonating within him even as unconsciousness took him into its embrace.

_ERAGON!_


	31. Imprisoned

The first thing Eragon noticed was the pain.

His first conscious thought was of Saphira.

His eyelids, which felt so heavy, slowly opened to reveal that he was in a dark room that had no windows and the only source of light was a single wicker candle that barely spread its warmth and light through the inky darkness.

_Saphira?_ Eragon called out weakly into his mind; there was no answer. He felt no connection, no bond. Just his own thoughts; the thoughts of Saphira were nowhere to be heard or felt. It was just the emptiness of his own mind with only his own thoughts. It was as though he was back in Gilead, where he had been given, unwillingly, medicines that had clouded his mind from Saphira's bond and his bond with magic. His head was clear, which meant that he hadn't been given any of the medications, but his head was empty save for his own thoughts.

The silence unnerved him.

Eragon winced as he felt the faint yet prominent throbs around his wrists, his shoulders were aching, and a quick glance up was all he needed to know to evaluate the situation.

His arms were chained to the cracked and gloomy stone wall, but the links of metal didn't seem like normal iron or steel; instead the chains gleamed as black as obsidian, so dark that even the color managed to clash against the softer darkness that surrounded him. Faint glimmers sparkled in the odd metal from the faint candlelight; the harsh twinkling glints of purple hurt his eyes.

Eragon was in a cell.

Eragon felt his heart thunder inside his chest, his palms shivering as he realized the gravity of the situation. _Be calm,_ Eragon thought frantically. _Remember what Oromis-elda said to calm down the mind and body. Breathe. In and out._ He could not panic. Not here, not now. To panic would result in his death. He breathed in shaky breaths, his heart still racing as he tried to not focus on the terrifying realization of his vulnerability. He breathed.

Once his heartbeat calmed and his nerves lessened, Eragon took note of the situation. He had been captured, that had been painfully obvious. The dull throbs of his leg and torso still burned but at a lesser pain, he shifted and he felt that someone had wrapped bandages around his wounds. At least the ones responsible had given note to his bleeding form, but probably didn't deem it important enough to heal him with magic. Though it seemed that they didn't heal him fully was to keep him weak and wounded so that he couldn't escape, but still left him very much alive.

Eragon glanced around and saw nothing but that lone candle, barely shedding any light, but his enhanced elven-like eyes could faintly see through the inky darkness. Bile rose to his throat when he glanced down and saw dried blood all over the floor.

"You're awake."

Eragon jolted at the soft voice spoken through the darkness of the cell, the chains wrapped around his arms and feet clanked and clanged. He searched for the source of the voice, it sounded as though it had come from near his right side, _too_ close.

"Who… Who are you?" Eragon rasped out, his throat and mouth as parched as the Hadarac Desert and felt like sandpaper. He could feel the coolness of blood trickling down his palms and his arms, forming little rivulets that streamed down his body like bloodied worms. The sudden jerky movements had cut his already tender flesh against the rough manacles that kept him chained to the wall.

"A friend, I guess you could say." The voice said again, the voice was soft but deep, signifying that Eragon's cellmate was male. But the fact that this stranger was _in_ _his_ _cell_ did little to calm down the Rider and rebel, for all he knew the voice belonged to his soon to be killer.

The shadows shifted ever so slightly as a figure become apparent against the soft candlelight. Eragon's eyes widened when he realized how young the other inhabitant was.

He couldn't have been much older than Eragon or Ronan, barely a man in human standards. Hair the color of ink clung to the man's head and hung limply to the prisoner's shoulders, the grease from no bathing shining in the candlelight. He was pale, at least as far as Eragon could tell from the bright flame. Whoever this man was, he had been here for a long time. The boy had once been muscular, not as broad as Ronan or his cousin but more of a leaner build like Eragon himself. But what had once been muscle had been eaten away as the man had slowly been starved in this dark cell, he was unhealthily skinny and looked like he could slip through the cell bars easily.

"You've stopped bleeding," the man continued, his back was to Eragon and was instead looking at the lone little orange flame that flickered lightly on the wick. Eragon wished he could see the man's face, to see his eyes. Eragon could tell what type a person a man was by looking into his eyes, no amount of magic was needed when one had the perception and judgment of Eragon. "When they brought you here, you were bleeding everywhere. I had to use some of my tunic to stop the flow of blood, I was afraid I had lost you until you started to breathe again. That's always good," he said softly, still fixated on the candle. "Breathing that is; not the bleeding."

Oh, so the dried blood splattered on the floor was his own.

How comforting.

At least this stranger had stopped the blood, and Eragon didn't have to fear bleeding out in this damn cell, but Eragon was still wary of this stranger. Eragon had learned long ago to not trust people so blindly, he knew from experience.

"How long…" Eragon stopped talking as coughs wracked his body, which had started to warm to uncomfortable levels. Which meant only one thing: fever.

"I'd say a couple of hours," Eragon saw the man shrug, sending twisted shadows across the cell. "It's hard to tell the time here. The only way I know is when the guard changes." The man chuckled but there was no humor, only bitter irony. "Oh yes, they make sure we're under guard at all times. Wouldn't want us to up and escape before the big ceremony."

Eragon didn't know why, but the way the man coldly said 'ceremony' sent icy chills crawling down his spine, sending the hairs on the back of his neck to bristle. "Ceremony?"

"Ahhh, right." The other prisoner drawled the words out slow and long. "You don't know who these people are. They're going to kill us. _That's _the ceremony."

The chill spread to Eragon's gut and heart. "W-What?" He couldn't help but choke out. He had assumed that he would live, after all Galbatorix was still rather short on Riders and seeing as Saphira was the last female that had given them the ironic command to not kill them_. It would be simply awful if Galbatorix's dreams of a new era of Riders were to be crushed because of an accidental slash of the throat or a knife to the heart,_ Eragon thought with a morbid sense of humor.

"Well more like mutilate us and then sacrifice us," the stranger said casually as though talking about the weather. "There's a reason why they've paired us up in this little cell, Rider."

"Will you shut up?" Another voice mumbled out, somewhat muffled. Eragon whipped his head in the direction of the new voice, alarmed at the newcomer he had neither seen nor sensed.

The one who had spoken first seemed to realize Eragon's alarm, despite not facing him. "Relax, Rider. That's just Olyvar. He's a fellow prisoner and sacrifice."

"The two titles I am most proud of," Olyvar said snidely from the darkness. "I'm tired, so if you could kindly be quiet that would be great." Eragon heard the sound of chains rustling and the sound of something moving across stone; Olyvar must have shifted around, trying to fall asleep.

Eragon narrowed his eyes and struggled with his chains and manacles, trying to use his great elven strength to shatter them like brittle parchment. But his strength failed him. The unnamed stranger cocked his head as he listened to Eragon's struggles with his chains. "It won't work." The man said bluntly, he himself didn't have any chains. Eragon wondered why.

"What are these?" Eragon asked as he continued to pull at the manacles, ignoring the pain of the manacles cutting into his tender flesh. Eragon swore several curses, both in Common Tongue and the dwarven language, when nothing happened, "Brazul! They won't break."

"Chains are made to do that." The unnamed stranger said dryly.

Eragon heard a snort come from Olyvar's general direction.

Eragon glared at the back of the young man's head. "And why don't you have chains?" He asked bitterly, seeing as at least the odd stranger had the freedom to stand up or sit down comfortably without cold metal digging into his flesh.

"I don't need chains to be held here." The man said softly, but there was a hint of sadness laced within his soft tone. "Those chains have been embalmed with a special crystal; it sucks out energy, both physical and magical. Haven't you noticed that you can't hear your dragon or summon magic? That's how they captured you, wasn't it? They don't just use those crystals for containing; they use them to capture enemies. Nonbelievers."

"I have chains as well, so you're not the only special one, Rider." Olyvar said from the darkness, voice dry and sarcastic.

Eragon's head spun at the previous words of the unnamed stranger. _A crystal that can pierce through my wards like nothing? I wouldn't have believed it had I not been confronted with such crystals. Brazul, those arrows must have been made up of those crystals that he's talking about… I'm an idiot. I let my guard down, I got cocky, and now I've paid the price._

"Nonbelievers?" Eragon asked after several minutes of tense silence. "What do you mean by that?"

"Those who do not believe nor follow the 'True Way'," Olyvar laughed at that, but it was still hard and bitter. "In Dras Leona, no matter if you are a traveler or a resident. You follow one religion in this awful, corrupt city. And if not… well here we are." He gestured around the dreary and dark cell with a wave of his hand.

"That priest speaking to the crowd…." Eragon's mouth turned dry as he remembered the crippled priest who had looked at him with eyes of hatred and loathing. Eyes that spoke of murder and damnation. Eyes that promised pain and sorrow to those who fell under his gaze and looked back with a defiant glare.

"Ah, yes. You've figured out a piece of this interesting puzzle. But tell me, oh great and mighty Rider. Who are these priests and why did they go after you? Normally religions try to stay out of the war between the rebels and Empire, even this damned cult. But why _you_?" It was Olyvar who spoke.

Eragon glared at the men submerged in the darkness, whose back was still to him. "And why are _you_ here, strangers?" He rebuked hotly.

Somehow Eragon could tell both men were smirking. The unnamed man spoke, "Oh I'm not some crazed maniac murderer I assure you. As for our current keepers… well I can't say the same for them." He chuckled again and leaned back on the palms of his pale hands. "They _are_ quite insane." He sniggered, his form shaking as laughter over took him. Eragon grew uneasy as he watched the man laugh.

The boy's laughter soon stopped however and he said somewhat sadly, almost mournfully "Sorry if you think I'm insane. It's just that, that, well I've been in here for awhile."

Eragon felt pity for the boy in front of him, despite the circumstances the man before him had probably saved his life. "Were there others, before me?"

The other prisoner didn't say anything for a couple of moments and when Eragon thought he wouldn't the boy slowly nodded his head. "Aye, there were a few besides myself and Olyvar: my brother including."

"I'm sorry." Eragon said softly, he did not ask of their fates. He already knew. And the stranger knew that too.

"He was ten, my brother. But that didn't stop those fanatics from mutilating his body day after day as part of their ceremonies. I remember… each day he would leave and he would come back missing a piece of his body. Some days it was just a couple fingers, the next a hand. The next a foot and soon enough the legs followed." The man said, his voice distant but pained as he thought of the fate of his brother. With each word Eragon grew sicker and sicker, until he thought he was about to vomit the bile that was creeping up his throat.

_Galbatorix… how could you allow this to happen? _Eragon thought bitterly to the King of the Empire, _these are your people and yet you… you…_

Eragon thought of the slaves that were sold daily, the poor and crippled that lined the streets at the entrance of the city, the children that were whipped for stealing bread for their families, losing a finger in the process so all would know of their crimes, crimes that were committed because there was no food for those of low birth, while the rich and highborn dined on fine fare, with coins in their pockets and slaves to do their every whim. _This city,_ Eragon thought vehemently, _deserves to burn._

Dras Leona was not like the other major cities Eragon had visited, it was nothing like Farthen Dûr, where those different from one another lived together in peace and prosperity. It was not Ellesméra, the capitol of the Elven Kingdom, where those of high birth and low birth were of equal standing; even their monarchy was fair as it was not inherited but instead the wisest of the elves, be they male or female, were chosen to lead the elven people. Instead, Dras Leona was a pit of human treachery. It was a dark city, a rotting corpse of human civilization.

It was a cesspool of humanity's dark nature, and Eragon had fallen to it.

"He was barely a human being by the time the gods took pity on my little brother and sent him a fever that he couldn't recover from. It was for the best, but I was still left alone in this cell with no one else as more followed his fate." The stranger spoke, his hands clenched into shaking fists that blotted out some of the candlelight. "Now we're the only ones left, because we're _special._" He spat out the words like it was covered in Seithr Oil. "We are given the great honor of being killed alongside the one who slew the priests' gods!"

"What?" Eragon asked in confusion; he certainly remembered never killing any gods. Eragon already had enough people out for his head, no need to have the divines try to kill him as well.

"You really don't know anything, do you?" The stranger asked in disbelief. "You're hanging from enchanted chains and you don't even know why?" He shook his head, "So much for the rumors of you actually having a brain." He muttered softly but Eragon could hear it thanks to his enhanced hearing.

"And why are _you_ in here, why do these priests deem you worthy enough for you to be sacrificed with me, who allegedly slew their gods, but not enough to actually chain you with even a measly piece of rope?" Eragon rebuked, more than a little angry at this boy's disrespect and seeing as he was in a rather foul mood at the moment, being captured and left hanging by his wrists did that to a man, Eragon wanted some answers.

Eragon heard Olyvar chortle, somehow amused by Eragon's question.

"They don't chain me because I can't escape no matter what." The man who seemed more boy that adult slowly turned his head, the light from the lone candle washing over his face that allowed Eragon to see his fellow prisoner for the first time.

He had sharp angular features that clashed with his thin face making him appear rather sickish, that were the first thing that Eragon noticed. No hints of baby fat clung to his cheeks or chin, for imprisonment had stolen any unneeded trace of fat that had remained on his stick thin body. There was something wrapped around his neck, made of the same purple crystals that bound Eragon: it was a collar. But it was then Eragon noticed his eyes for the first time and couldn't help but not stop looking in shock.

The stranger's eyes were one color: pure white. It was as though a stonemason had replaced his eyes with polished orbs of marble that was unblemished from any imperfections or darkening that threated to stain the stark white rock. There was no pupil, and if there were than it was hidden under the layer of whiteness. The stranger's eyes burned into him, they seemed to glow in the darkness as the man's head fully turned to face the chained Rider, and the light from the candle was hidden by the back of the man's head. His gaze reminded Eragon of an eagle, piercing and strong that gazed into his soul without blinking or looking away but instead continued to see the soul for what it was, and what it made the holder.

Eragon then realized why neither rope nor chains were needed. Why there was no lock or cuffs on his arms and hands, why he was allowed to move about as he pleased without the guards ever worrying about him in the slightest amount of concern. You could have given the man a sword and the guard could sleep easy on duty with ale in his belly and breath without any worry.

The prisoner's eyes were looking to the left of Eragon ever so slightly, where his shoulder was but not his face nor eyes. Because he didn't see them, he couldn't see them. "You're blind." Eragon suddenly said loudly.

The boy raised a brow, his dark hair and alabaster eyes seemed to clash as one fought to blend into the darkness while the other seemed to gleam in the dark like the gaze of a dragon. "I had never noticed," the teenager said rather dryly with no hint of amusement in his soft tone. Eragon heard Olyvar laugh again, amused by Eragon's rather obvious statement.

"Oh, er," Eragon stumbled as he realized how foolish he sounded.

The boy sighed as Eragon tried to think of something to say that wouldn't offend the blind man, it didn't help that Eragon was suffering from the symptoms of blood loss and was very dehydrated. His vision had started to grow fuzzy and the small bit of light seemed to blur with the darkness, but the stranger's stark white eyes still gleamed despite Eragon's exhaustion and maybe hallucination. The other prisoner leaned up against the moist rock that made up their cell, his arms wrapped around his knees as he looked away from Eragon and instead opted to look out where the steel and most likely enchanted door kept them in the confined space.

"I guess you're tired," the blind man said. "I can smell the blood coming off of you, I think you reopened the wound when you were thrashing around."

A quick glance down showed that the dark crimson liquid was indeed soaking through his already bloodstained and tattered leggings. His enhanced hearing could hear each little drop as his lifeblood hit the cold and musty floor.

_Drip…. Drip…. Drip…_

Each droplet was audible to him, almost hypnotizing him with the steady beat. It rang in his ears, resonating in his soul. All he was aware of was the blood.

There was the sudden sound of hands brushing against the rough stone, the sound of feet hitting the stone; Eragon heard something rip and the stranger cursed. As his eyesight slowly got darker and darker, he was dimly aware of the stranger near him and ripping off the old and dried bandage and reapplying a new piece of his shirt to his leg.

"Your… name…." Eragon rasped out, his eyes could barely see the candle against the soft darkness that encouraged the weak Rider with its warm and soft embrace. His hands that had been clenched in tight fists, blood threating to be spilt by the pressure of his dirtied fingernails, slowly lost their grip and instead the Son of None hung there lax against the chains.

The blind boy paused in what he was doing; his marble like eyes seemed to pierce into Eragon's brown orbs with unnerving accuracy. There was silence before the boy spoke again, but it felt like a whisper as Eragon felt the darkness's addictive embrace loom closer. "Perdix… My name is Perdix."

"Era….gon."

Eragon hacked out a cough, his whole form shuddered as his lungs burned and gasped for air that it could not get but desperately needed. His eyelids closed but the darkness never changed, but some responsible and fearful part of him fought for consciousness. His curiosity was what won him those desperate and precious few seconds to ask one more question.

"Who are their gods?" Eragon rasped out, exhausted but curious all the same.

Perdix's soft voice did little to soothe Eragon as he leaned near the Rider's ear, knowing that he wouldn't have been able to hear had he not been so close. "The Ra'zac."

Eragon's eyes widened ever so slightly, but the loss of blood and exhaustion finally defeated his willpower and his curiosity; the rebel Rider lost consciousness yet again.

… _Drip… Drip… Drip…_


	32. Olyvar and Perdix

"Saphira!"

Eragon cried out as he was jerked back into consciousness, his eyes wide and fearful as he looked for the sapphire dragoness that shared half of his heart and soul. But the impending silence was all that answered him, and it terrified him even more.

"Whose Saphira?" Eragon faintly heard Olyvar ask Perdix curiously.

"The dragon maybe? He _is_ a Rider." Perdix replied.

"A dragon would be useful right about now. I've heard that dragon fire can melt stone and metal in the matter of seconds; I wonder how long it takes for a human to be burnt into a crisp."

Eragon saw Perdix snort at that, and Eragon thought, that if not for the fact that no one could see his pupils, that Perdix might have rolled his eyes as well. "A rather morbid thought, wouldn't you agree, Rider?"

Olyvar's voice grew darker and grimmer, "You know as well as I that you would love nothing more than to see -or I guess sense for you- them burn. If they're burnt to a nice crisp, we could easily escape!"

"Aside from the small problem that we don't have a dragon here with us, and even if the priests were to all suddenly combust into flames, we wouldn't be able to escape. None of us know the passageways despite walking through them; I'm not much of a visual learner, as you may have noticed." Perdix's voice was dry as he spoke. "You're too brash for your own good, and impatient as well. I want to escape as much as you, and would love to escape the fate of becoming a course for the Ra'zac and their fanatical worshippers, but we must stay cautious and vigilant. We cannot afford to make mistakes, not when time is of the essence."

"Escape isn't impossible!" Olyvar argued heatedly.

"I never said it was." Perdix stated evenly, "I am merely stating that with the addition of the Rider, who killed the remaining Ra'zac, they are even more on their guard. This cult has existed for nigh a century, and has flourished since Galbatorix took the throne; it will not allow any slacking when vengeance is so close for them."

Eragon glanced around the cell; his eyes fell upon Perdix who was sitting against the stone wall, and then looked around until he spotted the other inhabitant that was with them.

Eragon finally saw Olyvar.

He was young, maybe only a few years older than Eragon. His dirty blonde hair came down his shoulders like a wild mane, a thick beard obscuring most of his facial features. He would have been stocky had he not been so malnourished; the chains and shackles clad upon him made Olyvar appear even smaller. His skin was pale from lack of sunlight and riddled with scars, but he held himself up proudly and there was a certain spark in his bright blue eyes that showed that, despite it all, Olyvar had not given up hope of escape. Those bright blue eyes were staring straight at Eragon with startling intensity, burning into him.

"He could help us," Olyvar whispered to Perdix eagerly. "We can escape!"

Eragon heard Perdix sigh wearily. "Olyvar, there is no escape at this time. We're trapped here. We can't escape with so many eyes upon us, upon _him_." He nodded his head in the general direction of Eragon.

"He's a Rider, Perdix," Olyvar argued. "He knows magic, he knows how to fight, and he even has a _dragon._ He can get us out of this cell."

"You do realize that if what you say is true, that this person you claim can help us escape with his powerful magic and giant fire breathing reptile is currently chained and in this cell with us. If he is so powerful, how did he get captured?"

"Ambush," Eragon said hoarsely, his throat dry, though he couldn't hide the indignation at the assumption that he was useless.

Perdix nodded at this, his spindly fingers idly tapping against the collar clasped around his neck. "We must remain vigilant; the priests are restless and will continue to grow agitated with each passing day. Too many eyes, Olyvar, too many swords."

"I don't want to get eaten." Olyvar said darkly, "You don't want to either. We have time, Perdix. And we have him," he nodded his head at Eragon.

Perdix's white eyes closed, knowing what his friend was referring to. "We must remain cautious," he reminded them, slinking back against the stone wall and wrapping his frail arms around his knees, placing his chin atop of them.

"How did you two find yourselves thrown into this cell? What did you do that resulted in this imprisonment?" Eragon was curious as two who these two young men were; they were around his age but had somehow ended up in this cell underneath a damned city.

"The same as you, Rider. We were captured and brought here. The only difference is why. You were brought here because of the grave slights you had brought upon the priests by slaying their monstrous gods-"

"We thank you for that," Olyvar interjected.

"My brother and I were taken from the streets, which had been our homes for a countless amount of years."

Eragon thought of the poor and desperate that lined the streets of Dras Leona, crying out for salvation but heard by deaf ears. He could easily imagine Perdix and a young sibling amongst them, weak and helpless with nothing to call their own and no one willing to help.

"Olyvar was brought here due to a crime he had committed." Perdix said.

Olyvar grunted, "I hardly call it a crime. I never killed anyone or stole anything."

"Some would agree," Perdix said amiably, "Most would call you a coward and traitor."

The chains rustled as Olyvar sprang to his feet, teeth clenched together tightly as his fingers stretched at the air, as though trying grab Perdix despite the restraints. "Be quiet, Perdix! You know nothing of my reasoning; I am no coward!"

"So you admit you are a traitor?" Perdix asked, though there was no hostility in his voice, if anything the blind man seemed amused, as though they had had this argument countless times before and Olyvar's ire was as trivial as a tantrum thrown by a child.

Olyvar's face turned a dark red; the man slowly sat back down and pressed his back against the wall, hunching himself over as though to hide. He didn't answer the question, but Olyvar's eyes kept flickering from Perdix to Eragon, before resting on the Rider.

Eragon was curious of who this man was, and why he was here. "Tell us your tale, and we will pass judgment on whether or not you are a traitor or a coward." He said amiably, trying to inspire the other prisoner to share his story.

"I know his story already, just as he knows mine." Perdix spoke, but he crossed his arms and stayed silent, willing Olyvar to speak.

The young man looked uncertain, maybe even a tad hesitant, but he squared his shoulders and turned his gaze upon the chained Eragon, looking up at the Rider with a wondering gaze, as though he didn't know where to begin.

"I was a soldier…" Olyvar mumbled, his eyes averted to his clenched hands.

_But what side were you on?_ Eragon wondered. _Was he a soldier of the Varden? It would certainly explain how he ended up here in this cell underneath Dras Leona; perhaps he is a prisoner of war captured during a battle or skirmish and given to the priests as a token of goodwill by religious imperialists._ Eragon wouldn't find it shocking, the powerful that called Dras Leona had changed his perspective on certain men and women who were given power but used it for their own selfish gain.

Olyvar seemed to know Eragon's wondering thoughts and smiled wryly. "Don't assume me so readily, Shadeslayer. I didn't fight besides you in the Battle of Farthen Dûr or the Battle of the Burning Plains; I was a soldier of the Imperial Army."

Olyvar chuckled at Eragon's shocked expression, but there was no humor in his smile or eyes. "But no longer…" he grew saddened by whatever thoughts plagued him, his eyes grew misty as he reflected on events that had long since transpired.

"I was trained to become an archer, and I was damned good at it." Olyvar seemed to perk up at his words, a small spark ignited within his eyes. "The best recruit there, I finished my training long before the others; I even set the newest record for completing the training. I was respected by my commanders and thought highly by my comrades. I… I was proud of where I was… of who I was…" Olyvar's smile grew somber, "I was to be sent to serve under the commanding officer based in Surda, I was even given a high ranking because of my skills; I was to be a Captain, the youngest one in history."

"What happened?" Eragon asked. Perdix stayed silent; Eragon assumed he must of heard this story before.

Olyvar's face seemed to twist with confliction, as though fighting internally with himself. Finally, after several moments of reflective silence, he spoke. "I was afraid."

Befuddlement grew within the Rider, along with temptatious curiosity.

"I…" Olyvar clenched his eyes shut and his fingers tightened around the chains that kept him trapped against the wall until they turned white. "I ran." He admitted with his head bowed and his expression hidden, though he didn't sound too ashamed of his cowardice. "All soldiers who are enlisted and are sent to war have one duty to do beforehand: swear loyalty to the Empire in the Ancient Language."

Understanding filled Eragon as he realized why the young man had done so, as well as a great deal of pity.

"I know nothing of magic, save of its danger and power, but I was taught what the Ancient Language was when I was young. An oath sworn in the Ancient Language is the same as permanent shackles, a loyalty you can never betray, and a vow to keep until you die." Olyvar said. "When you swear an oath in the Ancient Language, you are never free of it."

"_I had no choice! After Thorn hatched for me, Galbatorix forced both of us to swear loyalty to him in the Ancient Language. We cannot disobey him now… You cannot help me, Eragon. No one but Galbatorix can release us from our oaths, and he will never do that… He knows our True Names, Eragon… We are his slaves forever."_

Murtagh's words resonated within Eragon, he could still hear the sheer desperation of his brother trying to explain to Eragon that he hadn't betrayed him, but had had no choice. Murtagh's words spoken to him during their confrontation at the Burning Plains had always haunted Eragon and had kept him up at night as he dwelled on the somber thoughts of his brother's imprisonment, but now it weighed heavily upon him as he realized what life must be like for his eldest brother.

_Murtagh, I'll free you and Thorn from the shackles placed upon you by Galbatorix,_ Eragon thought solemnly, guilt filling him as he reflected. _I should have helped you when I had the chance, but what could I have done? I was so confused by your survival and the discovery of my heritage that I never once thought of trying to free you, save with death. I'm sorry, brother, I'm truly sorry. I share the same blood as you, just as I share blood with Roran, and I didn't help you. You saved me from the life that was placed upon you, and revealed the Varden's treachery. You saved my life twice that day, and I will return the favor. _

"I never wanted much in my life, but I enjoyed my freedom far more than I loved my duty to the Empire, and so I refused to take the oaths that would have bound me to Galbatorix. I was terrified, there is no denying that, but I deserted before it was time to swear my loyalty to the King and the Imperial Army. I never wanted to be a puppet, a pawn in another's game; I just wanted to serve while free to make my own choices."

Olyvar looked desperate as he spoke, "Am I truly a coward for fleeing a life of servitude? For running from the chains that would have been placed upon me? Am I a coward for being afraid? Perhaps, but do we all not fear something? Do we all not have something that terrifies us, and does it not fill of us with dread when faced? Am I truly a traitor for choosing myself and my freedom above forced oaths?"

The words, spoken so desperate for an answer, resonated within Eragon. The Rider pitied the young archer who had been faced with an ultimatum, with his choice altering his life forever.

"I was caught not long after I deserted. Say what you will about the Imperials, but they have some damned good hunters and trackers when it comes to deserters." Olyvar grunted, "They didn't kill me on the spot for desertion. The leader of the trackers happened to be a follower of this beloved cult whose dungeon we are currently occupation and decided that I was of better use to be used as a sacrifice to the Ra'zac than worthy of a beheading. Honestly I'd have preferred beheading, it would've been much faster than languishing in this cesspit."

"After that, I was thrown in here without further explanation save that I was to be a sacrifice to the Old Ones, and here I met Perdix." Olyvar nodded his head in the direction of the raven-haired man. "And the rest of my tale has yet to have been lived."

"Your tale does not end in this cell, Olyvar." Perdix said from the shadows, stark white eyes gleaming from the flickering candlelight. "None of us will die if we don't lose hope."

"Tell us of your life before the army, before your vows were to be told." Eragon encouraged, hoping to cheer the grim man with happier memories.

The blond looked at Eragon, a bit befuddled at the idea, but the confusion died away as his taut facial features seemed to relax as he reflected on happier times. "My family is an old and prosperous house of nobility. My father is a well-respected noble who often dines with the various governors and lords of the realm; he had even once dined with the King in Urû'baen. My mother came from another prestigious household from the west. They are staunch supporters of Galbatorix's reign, and had attempted to pass that zealous loyalty onto their children." Olyvar laughed lightly, glancing downwards at the shackles on his forearms and legs, "I don't think they succeeded very well."

Olyvar explained that his mother and father bore two children: himself and a sister. A smile appeared on his bruised and scarred face as Olyvar recalled his sister with fondness.

"When we were young, we would play in the orchards that surrounded the estate. My sister and I would chase each other throughout the orchards, our laughter would shake the tree leaves and our footsteps would rumble the ground. We were close when we were younger, and my sister idolized me and I love her with my entire being." Olyvar's eyes began to water ever so slightly, the unshed tears gleaming in the faint candlelight. "I'm sure that they think I am dead. Better dead than living as a deserter, eh?" His laughter was bitter.

Eragon truly pitied the man chained with him. Olyvar seemed to be a good man, if only slightly flighty, and did not deserve the fate that had been forced upon him by the priests.

Eragon glanced between his fellow inmates. He looked at Olyvar who had fled from his duty for the sake of freedom, and at Perdix who had lived on the streets of Dras Leona with nothing to call his own, who had seen his own brother suffer at the hands of the priests that kept them imprisoned. "If we are able to escape, what would you make of your lives?" He asked the two with the utmost of seriousness.

There was a moment of reflective silence as both men seemed to weigh his question and thought of an answer. It was Perdix who spoke first.

"Revenge." The blind man said simply, his words sharp and cold as a winter gale. "I want vengeance for my brother, for those who perished in this cell and others, and for myself."

_A challenging goal, but not surprising,_ Eragon thought to himself, though he wondered how Perdix would achieve his dream of vengeance when he was just one man who couldn't see.

"I just want to go home," Olyvar said hoarsely, his voice thick with emotion. "I want to see my mother and father, and to see my sister again."

The cell grew silent. There was nothing more that needed to be said.

The prospect seemed so bleak to Eragon, as though it was an unreachable dream that faded away whenever he tried to grasp it. But if he were to regain his magic… if he were to be freed from the shackles that kept his enhanced strength at bay… Escape didn't seem as bleak. But Eragon knew that he couldn't do so alone, despite his best wishes. He needed help. He needed Perdix and Olyvar to aid him.

"Do you two trust me?" Eragon asked them.

The look Olyvar gave to Perdix and the slight furrow of the blind man's brow told him that they didn't. "We have only just met you, Shadeslayer. We do not trust you." Perdix responded, dashing Eragon's hopes.

"But…" Perdix hesitated and Olyvar took charge.

"We also see that there is no hope of escape unless we all work together. We do not need another's trust to free ourselves, perhaps in time we grow to trust one another, but for now we are simply fellow prisoners who want to be freed from this prison." Olyvar said.

Perdix nodded his head in agreement at Olyvar's words.

"I… understand," Eragon said solemnly, understanding why trust was no trifle thing to give; Orrin had proven that long ago. "Trust or no trust, there is no denying that we all need one another to escape this cell. I have someone waiting for me who is surely worried."

The thought of Saphira brought a lump to his throat, and Eragon found it difficult to breathe as he reflected on how _alone_ he was without Saphira's constant mental connection. He didn't like it. He didn't like the silence. He didn't like the feeling of complete isolation. He felt weak and powerless without her there alongside him. Eragon felt completely alone.

"Do you have a plan, Rider?" Olyvar asked.

Eragon grinned wryly, "I'm a man who simply goes through the motions. Plans don't always go well with me." There were too many instances of that happening that Eragon didn't deem it important enough to single out a single instance.

"Perhaps we can be of aid." Perdix said and Olyvar nodded his head in agreement. Eragon grinned at them, Olyvar grinned back while Perdix simply blinked.

"Escape is not impossible," Perdix repeated what he had been telling Olyvar earlier, but there was an edge to his voice that betrayed his excitement. Eragon's smile grew wider that it almost hurt as much as the bruises that lined his sore body, but the eagerness of escaping and reuniting with his beloved dragon made the aches ebb away.

_I'm coming, Saphira._

**End**

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><p><strong>I'm back! And I seriously mean it when I say so! I'm sorry guys for such awful updates, but junior year is literally taking up all of my time with sports and academics. I only have a week and a half left of school, including exams, and after that I am free! Free I tell you! Sorry if the chapter seems a bit rushed, but I wanted to update before exams take up all of my time, and I hope that the development of Olyvar and Perdix, though mostly Olyvar in this chapter, was well. I've had a sudden surge of inspiration for my writing and I've been writing a lot more than what I normally do. I've even written a small little story that is more of a one-shot of an idea I had for the Inheritance Cycle that I was thinking of posting, but I think I'll hold onto it to polish it to make sure it is to my liking before posting it. I've also been obsessed with the Age of Ultron movie, which was so freakin' good! Quicksilver and Scarlet Witch had to be my favorite part of the movie, but the Hulkbuster and the hammer scene come very close! I've written a little bit that focus mainly on the twins, but I don't know if I'll post anything on the site unless I finish writing it. I don't want to suddenly post a whole bunch of new stories when I have my other stories that need updating. But man was that movie awesome. Until next time!<strong>


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